A Troubled Life
by Noxlupis Lamiamedicus
Summary: Everything at Baker Street seems to have returned to normal since Sherlock came back. John, after much yelling, accepting his best friend back with open arms. But Sarah brings her sixteen year old niece to work one day, asking John for help. What will happen when John and Sherlock accept the young girl into their home to stay while she gets away from an abusive stepfather? Johnlock
1. Chapter 1

A rock skittered ahead of a black boot, coming to rest against the curb of the sidewalk in the neighborhood. The black boot clad the foot of a young girl, dressed in black jeans, a black tee and a black jacket. Her blonde hair, pulled in a ponytail, was hidden beneath a black cap. To a resident of the neighborhood, she might appear to be a burglar, if not for the slight limp and slouched posture. They all knew the girl, as she lived not too far from where she currently walked. Not a soul dared to approach the poor girl, whose blood was running down the side of her pale face.

The girl's fingers fumbled in her pocket, searching for a phone that she would never find. It was currently sitting on her nightstand, next to her computer. _It's probably ringing with text too,_ she thought forlornly. She had friends from America, where she lived not a year before, that she still talked to.

She stumbled along, the sharp pain in her leg getting worse with every step. Before long, she knew, she'd pass out cold from the blood loss. _Have to get to my aunt's, _she sighed. At that moment, a cab rounded the corner, slipping to the side to drop off a young lawyer. The man gave the teen an odd look as he got out. The girl tried to smile at him while hurrying to the cab. She gave the cabbie the address and relaxed as he drove.

When they got there, the young girl forked over the correct amount of change and got out hurriedly. A light glowed warmly on the porch, a sign her aunt was still up. She waved to the cabbie and walked up to the door wearily. Three knocks and she waited, swaying slightly. Her vision began to swim as she waited. The door opened as the young girl toppled forward, passed out cold.

John Watson walked into his office, stretching. It'd been a long night until he had convinced his flatmate, Sherlock Holmes, to sleep. The infamous detective hadn't slept or rested for a week. He'd barely had anything to eat.

"Good morning John," his boss greeting, looking over a few files on his desk.

"Oh, good morning Sarah." John returned, smiling. "To what do I owe this visit?" The army doctor noted the bags underneath his boss's eyes, and the slouched posture of somebody just wanting to go to bed.

"I…" she trailed off as another pair of footsteps entered the room. John turned to see a young teen limping slightly. Her left leg was bandaged tightly, as was her head. She held an arm around her stomach, and John could see scratches and bruises, old and new, covering the otherwise pale skin.

"Um, hi…" the girl trailed off, looking down. She knew how the bruises and scratches looked to anyone. She was suddenly embarrassed to be around this stranger. Her black shorts and tank top hid the much worse scars she'd never let anyone, even her Aunt Sarah, see. She'd abandoned the black cap from the night before but still favored her hair in the ponytail.

"Hello. Sarah, who is this?" The army doctor turned from studying the poor teen. He felt an immediate sense to protect the young girl from whatever caused her that much pain.

"John, this is my niece, Alex Wilhem, and she needs a place to stay." Sarah looked at her feet at this. The teen, Alex, looked slightly hurt, but understood why she couldn't stay at her aunts.

"Why can't she stay with you?" John asked, oblivious to the reasoning.

"That's the first place they'll go looking for her." Sarah gave a look so severe that Alex felt herself shrink a little. John kept a stubborn look, but understood that asking anymore questions would not give favorable answers.

"I can text Sherlock. Perhaps he could use someone to help with his experiments." John commented after a while, noticing Alex's face light up at the word 'experiments.' The blogger chuckled internally and sent a quick text, hoping the detective wasn't still too busy looking at his microscope like he was when John left this morning.

_How would you like some help with your experiments? Sarah's got a niece who's in trouble. She would be eager to assist you. If not, can we still give her a place to stay? She really needs it. Beaten up real bad. –JW_

Sherlock, who was busy playing the violin in order to think, sighed and checked his phone as it beeped with a text. _A niece? Are we a babysitting service now? _The detective thought wearily. _Still, if she wants, I could always use some help. And if she's been beaten up…well, we certainly don't want her out on the streets. _Sherlock thought it through, weighing pros and cons.

How old is she? –SH

John looked down at his phone. "Um, how old are you Alex?"

"Sixteen sir," the teen responded, speaking softly.

Sixteen. She's well mannered, well behaved. Smart according to Sarah. –JW

"Ah," the detective spoke out loud, smiling at his phone. A girl her age would be useful. And if she's as smart as her aunt says, surely she would catch on quickly to what they were doing.

Send her over –SH

John smiled at the girl. "He said sure. If you want to go now…" Alex nodded excitedly, eyes dancing with delight. She was finally going to get to help assist with experiments. She loved experiments. Her aunt smiled as well.

The cab Alex had taken dropped her off at 221B Baker street, next to a quaint little café. A tall man with curly black, maybe brunette hair, stood outside, heavy coat draped across his slender frame. He had the sharpest cheekbones Alex had ever seen, which helped define his face. His gray eyes seemed icy and far off. The teen assumed that maybe this was the man she was supposed to meet. He seemed exactly what the army doctor had described to her.

"Ah, Alex I assume?" The man spoke in a rich, deep baritone, surprising Alex.

"Yes sir, you must be Sherlock. Pleased to meet you." She didn't bother to reach out her hand for a shake, as John had warned her he would not comply. "John mentioned experiments, can I really help?"

Sherlock noted the sharp, curious glean in her eyes as she mentioned the experiments. He was already deducing her as they stood, even though she was unaware. He could tell by the bruises and past scars, little less than a year old at the least, were from getting beat, not by other children, though a few did come from them too, but an abusive step-father. How he knew step, was the simple reason the girl ran. Had she any sentiment towards the man, just him merely being her father, she never would have ran, or gotten help at all. She lived a rough life. Bullied, by the obvious restlessness. Sherlock suspected she had a parent die when she was young, which would explain the sadness buried in the depths of her shockingly gray eyes. There was something so similar to the young girl to the likeness of himself at that age that Sherlock immediately liked her. He gave her a warm smile.

"Of course. I think you'd find it interesting, from what John was telling me." Alex's face split into a giant smile. Sherlock chuckled to himself and led her inside the flat, pointing to the microscope. "I'm done for the day, but you're welcome to study the one I just got done with."

Alex nodded eagerly and set to work deciphering his notes. The effect of acid on hair molecules fascinated the teen, and she blocked out the beautiful song Sherlock spun on his violin as she read through the different steps and results. "Wow…" she whispered, staring at the remnants of the experiment with bright eyes. "I have a lot to learn…"

The violin continued to play as Alex tentatively took a seat on the couch, content to listen to the music. She hadn't heard such a lovely, hand-played song since the days before her dad had died, when he would play the guitar or his harmonica. He'd always used them to help lull the girl to sleep. Before long, the teen was closing her eyes and resting her head on the back of the couch, allowing the music to pull her back in time.

"DADDY!" _A young girl shouted, laughing. Mr. Wilhem picked up his baby girl and twirled her around, kissing her forehead. _"I'm home, how about a story and some music?" _He wasted no time in helping his wife get their young child to bed. She was only five, and already up past her bedtime. The child smiled and bolted towards her room, climbing into the big, fluffy bed as her father carried his guitar in. He started strumming softly, knowing that's exactly what little Alex wanted. The child drifted off to sleep, smiling with one hand stretched to pet the neck of the guitar. _

The teen awoke two hours later, stretched out on the couch with a blanket covering her. She rolled off, yawning. She hadn't had a good memory of her dad in a long while, everything having been blocked by the selfish habits she had discovered of his when she was six. The detective was no where to be seen, though she thought she heard some muttering in the bedroom. Alex shrugged it off and went to the fridge to get something, anything to drink. All she could find in the scare fridge was a head, and a beer or two. She shook her head and chuckled. _Down to the café I suppose. _

"Oh, you're awake." A deep voice commented, coming from his bedroom. The teen turned around with an embarrassed smile.

"Yea, sorry, when I was younger, my dad always played guitar or harmonica to get me to sleep, and you were playing so beautifully I guess I just drifted off." She rubbed the back of her neck and hoped she didn't sound too stupid.

"Oh? I've been complemented on my music, but never has it been calm or soothing enough for sleep." The detective leaned against the doorway, an amused smile on his face. In truth, he too had grown up with music around the house, and even lessons. He'd always preferred the violin, as it always helped him think or gave him something to do.

The teen blushed and dropped his gaze. "It was beautiful, and sad. Something I can relate to it felt like." She shrugged. The detective studied her some more before smiling and waving a hand downstairs.

"I suppose you must be hungry. Care to grab something downstairs?" He wasn't hungry, despite having had only the occasional apple since last week. He supposed John was going to make him eat later, so he appeared semi-normal to the teen.

"Just thirsty. I don't eat a whole lot." _Hardly at all, _she thought, laughing.

"Well, I suppose I can get Mrs. Hudson to get some tea up here." The detective frowned in thought for a moment.

"I'll just go downstairs. It's a good time for me to people watch as well, observe the people who come around here." The teen shrugged and started for the door.

"I might as well join you." Sherlock commented after a while, grabbing his coat and scarf. The teen shrugged as if she didn't care either way, but was glad Sherlock was accompanying her. She didn't know what kind of people were around, though she certainly would after an hour or two of just watching, but she didn't want to take the chance of her mum or stepfather seeing her, especially by herself.

The café downstairs had a decent amount of customers for the night. Alex ordered a soda and sat at a table where she could sit with her back to the wall have a perfect view of the street outside. She'd observed a lawyer, judge and cop sitting at the bar, all dressed in normal, civilian wear. Outside walked a teacher, two more lawyers, and a news crew. Alex had trouble wrapping her head around the amount of officials that appeared in front of the small café.

Sherlock watched the teen. _She's very observant, much more so than John. And guarded, why? _He couldn't completely figure the girl out. She already seemed to trust him, and John, but she immediately put her back to a wall out in public. _She's like a puzzle, _he thought with amusement.

A man, one Alex had originally deemed as an IT person, looked up with dark eyes and chuckled. He was not loud enough to be heard over the buzz of conversation in the café, but it didn't matter. He wasn't chuckling for anyone's amusement but his own. His archenemy, the consulting detective Sherlock was sitting with a girl, something he'd never would've guess would happen to The Virgin. His fingers were quick and precise as he typed out a message on his phone, being careful to keep his head down while reading the latest issue of the London newspaper.

Sherlock's phone buzzed with a text. He looked down, thinking perhaps John was telling him he was down with his job for the day. A gasp escaped his lips when he read the message.

_I see you're having fun. Is that your new pet? Could John not handle you faking your own death? I can play that game too. In fact, I love to play games, don't you? See you around! –JM_

The detective pulled in a sharp breath and closed his eyes. The consulting criminal was suppose to be dead, Sherlock had watched him shoot himself! There on the rooftop. He couldn't worry about Moriarty though as Alex turned a questioning gaze towards him.

"Oh, nothing to worry about, John will just be a bit late." The detective lied, smiling slightly. He could tell right away that the teen didn't buy it. She stared at him for a long moment before shrugging. She wasn't going to push, even if she was curious.

A shot rang out in the startling silence and Alex let out a yelp as fresh blood spattered the wall. For a paralyzing second, she thought it was Sherlock's blood, who had slumped forward as soon as he heard the shot. She didn't understand the sharp pain that blossomed from her shoulder, or the sudden dizziness, as if she was experiencing bloodloss again. She let out a loud and painful scream as she slumped forward, hand clutching the still bleeding wound.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Alex noticed was the roaring headache as her mind slowly woke her up from a deep sleep. Bright light stabbed at her eyelids, piercing through to the eyes still trying to rest. She groaned and tried to turn over, causing a sharp, burning sensation to stab her right shoulder. She yelped in response and her eyes flung open.

She took a minute to blink spots out of her vision and get used to the incredibly bright white that was the ceiling. _Hospital room, _her mind informed her wearily. She twitched her right hand and sighed. _Just shoulder damage. What happened again? _She raised her left hand, which had an IV needle in it, until she couldn't anymore. Her ear twitched in annoyance. _I hate hospitals. _She put in back down and slowly moved her head to look down at her shoulder. After a minute or two, she realized she'd need a mirror to see the damage.

"Well, look who finally woke up." John's amused voice greeted her. Suddenly his kind face was looming over Alex's. She took note of his brown/green eyes and smiled in response. His blonde hair was graying, something she hadn't noticed until she was studying him closely.

"What…" her voice cracked from disuse. She coughed and swallowed, then tried again. "What happened?" She sounded hoarse, like someone had tried to strangle her.

John's mouth pulled down at the corners, and he scratched his head. "You were shot, right in the café. No one knows why, or by whom. Yet. Sherlock and Sarah are around here too. I'm sure Sherlock will have more information than I do." The army doctor looked up right as Alex heard two sets of footsteps enter the room.

"Ah, you're awake then." The deep voice seemed to boom, making Alex wince. She closed her eyes against the lights and tried to find the source of the horrid headache. "Alex, I'm terribly sorry this happened while you were under my care. How are you feeling?" The teen's head lulled to the side as she slowly opened her eyes again. She smiled warmly at the detective.

"I'm feeling…alright. Need some water. Terrible headache, no pain in my shoulder. Don't apologize Sherlock, bet it would've happened if I was alone." _I'd be dead if I was alone. _She didn't allow herself to admit that last part. That was letting the truth come uncomfortably close to being real.

The detective looked perplexed at what Alex had just muttered. _Would've happened if you were alone? _He didn't understand how one as young as her could accept the fact. Or even think like that. Sherlock was almost sure that the sniper had been aiming for him, but he stupidly ducked.

The teen shook her head as if she could read Sherlock's thoughts and closed her eyes again. Her breathing became even once more and she fell into a deep sleep.

"Sherlock, she's fine. Go home and get some rest. Quit worrying so much about a girl you've barely met." John muttered to the detective. The lights were off in the room, and it was easy for the girl to feign sleep. No doubt the detective could hear the slight change to know she was awake, but John couldn't.

"I'm fine John, you go home and get some rest. I'm not tired at all. And I worry because, well, look at her. Clearly she's running from an abusive family member." _I would understand better than you ever could, _the detective didn't bother to voice his thought. John didn't know, or understand, much about the man's childhood. Sherlock thought it best to leave buried, least he slip into his old habits he'd been clean of for years. To him, that young girl lying in the bed was just like him. Battered, bullied, scared and putting on a face for the world. However, he knew she wasn't dealing with it through conventional means, such as drinking and drugs. She was doing something more dangerous, something Sherlock Holmes remembered doing all too well.

The girl stirred slightly, making John flinch guilty. He gave Sherlock one last look and looked at Alex. "Awake again we see." He smiled in adamant amusement.

Alex stuck her tongue out at him. "I caught up on some rest, that's always good. How long have I been out?" She tried to sit up when she realized her arm was now in a sling and the IV had been taken out.

"A week. That bullet did a lot of damage. They had to do some blood transfusions, put a plate in your shoulder blade, and stitch it all up. Sorry about having to be drugged. They were afraid you'd wake up in the middle of operation." John smiled apologetically. Alex pursed her lips in thoughtfulness and shrugged.

"I'm feeling lots better. Can I leave? I hate hospitals." She practically begged the two grown men, giving her best puppy dog face. They both laughed as Sarah entered the room, earning a strange look from the girl's aunt. "Aunt Sarah, can I leave? Please? You know how I am about hospitals." She turned pleading eyes on the doctor, who smiled at her.

"Your doctor will be here to check vitals in short moment. If everything checks out, he said you're good to go." The teen's face lit up and she looked around. The room had no color to it, much to Alex's disliking. She hated hospitals more than she hated her old home.

"Oh, Aunt Sarah, I still need my phone and laptop, and some clothes." She muttered after a while, biting her lip. She'd left all of it in her room when she made her escape, now the trick was getting it back. She knew her stepfather would be going to work in a few hours, but both should be in bed. Her two little brothers would be laying in their toddler beds, unaware that their sister was never coming home.

Sarah pursed her lips and tapped her index finger against them. "Well…I suppose we can get them tonight, since their asleep, or should be." She worried about getting caught. Her brother had already called about the whereabouts of his missing stepdaughter. She, of course, was forced to lie. Sarah doubted he actually believed her.

"Phone and computer? From your place?" John asked Alex, studying her. The teen nodded, almost defeated, and closed her eyes, counting to ten. She took a deep, shaky breath and looked the army doctor straight in the eyes.

"I'm technically a runaway…sorry about that." She sighed and laid back, letting the warmth in the pillows embrace her. John looked at Sherlock.

'_You could tell?' _He mouthed, wonderingly. The detective nodded the slightest bit and turned to Alex.

"We'll get your stuff back, don't worry. You just go back to the flat and rest." Sherlock motioned for John to follow. Sarah silently slipped them the address. She stayed behind as a doctor came rushing in, apologizing about being late, and watched the two flatmates walk out of the hospital.

Getting into the house was fairly simple. One of the idiots inside had left the front door unlocked. Sherlock tested it, swinging it open on whisper-quiet hinges. The whole household remained asleep. The only sound was somebody's loud snoring. The detective turned to his flatmate. "Go down that hall, I'll go down the other one." He whispered, moving quickly and quietly. The army doctor nodded, hardly believing he was doing this for a girl they'd just barely met.

_Something about her has to remind Sherlock of himself for him to want to do something nice for her…_John thought as she passed two boys' bedrooms. One was sleeping deeply, by the sound of his breathing, but the other's breath hitched in sobs and uneven rhythms, as if he was crying. John froze in front of this boy's door, feeling that pull to comfort the child. He knew he couldn't, so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, walking further down the hall. He came to the last two doors and listened carefully. Not a sound came from either one.

He tested the door on the right, twisting the knob and pushing the door slowly open. John peered in and caught the gleam of a sink and toilet. "Only the loo," he muttered, closing the door again. He took a deep breath as he opened the other door, hoping it wasn't just storage. The scare moonlight lit the outline of a twin-sized bed, a nightstand and what looked like a dresser. The army doctor sighed and flipped on a light, looking around.

The bed was covered in dark purple fabric, and her pillows were alternating black and white. The lamp on the nightstand had a white shade, casting a soft light over the dark carpet and purple walls. A silver computer top winked in the new light and a phone led showed green next to it. John went to grab those first, looking for a case to hold the laptop in. He found the black bag sitting against the pillows, sagging open, as if waiting. _This girl must really like dark colors, _John thought as he packed the computer and phone up. He raided her closet next, grabbing random clothes and packing them in a dark blue suitcase sitting on the floor.

"You almost done?" Sherlock asked from the doorway, making John jump. He nodded silently and cleaned out her top drawer, barely looking at the contents. The army doctor zipped the back up, grabbed the computer and headed towards Sherlock, who took the computer bag and started to head out the door. John, at the last minute, grabbed a picture frame, with the glass busted, from the dresser. He'd seen the glinting smile of a man, and figured it was Alex's father, her real one.

Sherlock was waiting outside, impatiently. "Sorry…" John mumbled, carrying the picture and suitcase towards the cab waiting down the street. He hoped he'd never have to see the awful home the poor girl had lived in.

Alex was lying on the couch when the two boys returned. Her attention was fixed on a book she had picked from the collection Sherlock kept around. Her ear twitched as she noted the presence of John and Sherlock. "Didn't take you too long. Did the bloke 'forget' to lock the front door again?" She asked, setting the book gently down. She locked onto the computer bag, immediately moving to take it off Sherlock's hands. She smiled gratefully as he let it go.

Alex started rooting around in the bag, muttering under her breath until she pulled out a long knife with a wolf handle. The sheath was decorated in different wolves as well. The blade was wicked sharp, and the teen smiled as she felt it. John and Sherlock watched with both amused and worried expressions.

"Good," she breathed, sheathing the knife and stuffing it back in the bag. "At least he didn't think to start going through my stuff." She seemed to be muttering to herself as she pulled the laptop out and powered it on. The screen popped up to purple background of a wolf.

"Obsessed with wolves much?" John asked her, amused. The teen laughed and nodded, pulling up documents and pictures. They flashed by as she quickly read and exited out.

"All my stories and poems," she explained to the flatmates who shrugged.

"Poems? Any good?" Sherlock asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Dark. Sad, depressing. I don't have any happy poems, that I can remember that is." Alex muttered, looking down. She'd been writing poems since she was twelve, to take her mind off the ache of her missing father. It didn't always help, but it did give her thoughts a place to go.

There was a sharp knocking on the door, then silence, as whoever had knocked waited. After the heartbeat of five means, another round was set upon the door, causing Sherlock to look at John. "That's not a client, nor my brother or Lestrade." The detective informed his best friend, who frowned.

"I guess I'll go down and get it then." The army doctor muttered, going downstairs. He gasped as he opened the door.


	3. Chapter 3

"Why hello again John." The Woman smiled at him and pushed her way up to the flat. "I see Sherlock still can't be bothered to answer the door. I need to see him about a case."

"I…" John tried to mutter, hoping to stop the dominatrix from going into the living room, where Sherlock was reading one of Alex's poems. Of course, no force in the universe could stop Irene as she climbed the stairs and entered the flat, where Sherlock waited with a guarded expression. Alex looked up from her computer and studied the woman. She was curious as to why Sherlock had suddenly gone tense and closed off when the name Irene rolled off his tongue.

She had brown hair tied back, with make-up coating a very pretty face. Her body was curvy, and covered in civilian wear of jeans and a T-shirt. Instantly, Alex felt a kind of weariness towards her, and unconsciously slipped a little further down the couch.

Irene noticed and smiled sweetly at the young girl, before turning her attention back to Sherlock. "Ah, Mr. Holmes, how nice to see you again. Picked up a new pet have we?" Alex rolled her eyes and went back to typing, her focus on a new poem.

"Pet? Oh no, merely watching her for a friend of Johns." Sherlock waved his hand at Alex. "What brings you here?" His tone was brisk, and cold, nothing like when he talked to John or even Alex.

"I have a case, one I think you'll find very interesting." Irene's smile grew as she handed a manila folder over to the detective. John joined them, sending Alex an apologetic look before focusing back on Sherlock and the file.

"Case? I have a case. I'm a bit tied up at the moment trying to find a shooter." Sherlock muttered as he pulled a few papers out.

"This is really just getting some info on a new client I have gotten. He seemed a bit fishy, and nervous. Said his wife stays at home, so he wanted to arrange a meeting place. Naturally I don't trust anybody, so I wanted information. The last man I used, well, let's just say he took a swim." Alex looked at her with a frown and heaved a sigh.

"My dad was a private investigator for years. He quit with I was about nine. Used to stalk my friends parents just to make sure I wasn't hanging out with anybody he didn't deem to his satisfaction." The teen just sighed at the memory.

Irene gave her a curious look as Sherlock looked over the file. The picture was of a balding man, late thirties, with fierce green eyes. He had a cold, haughty expression that just seemed so cruel to Sherlock. "Were you not able to dig anything up yourself?" He asked the dominatrix, looking up from the picture. It slipped from the pile of papers and landed next to Alex, who picked it up gingerly.

"AH," she threw the picture out and pulled her legs up to her chest, glaring as if it might catch fire. The three grown ups looked at her strangely, then to the picture. Both John and Sherlock understood right away. That's who she was running from. That's who hurt her.

"Shh…" John tried to calm down the girl, who was shaking uncontrollably. She took three deep, calming breaths and looked up at the army doctor with tears glittering, unshed, in her eyes.

"That's Ray Brines, my mums husband." She whispered, closing her eyes and trying to calm down the anxiety that was roaring against her every nerve. All she could see was his boot connecting with her side, his fist burying itself in her gut. She could see the glint of a knife as he ran it across her shoulder.

Alex jumped up and ran to the bathroom, locking herself in. Neither John nor Sherlock had noticed the other, smaller knife she'd slipped out of bag. The blade had recently been sharpened and clean. She had only done it a week ago, or was it yesterday? It didn't matter as the blade sliced a clean cut into her forearm, and her anxiety began to rush away like the blood that ran down her arm. She let the wound weep for another two minutes before wrapping it in a towel and getting supplies down to cover it.

_Dammit, _she thought wearily, now that all the blind panic and anxiety disappeared. _You haven't cut in a month, you just ruined it again. _She looked in the mirror at her ghost white face. There was something so sad, so undeniably guilty in her expression she mentally recoiled in horror. _You made a promise, and you broke it, _her mind whispered. She mentally slapped herself and cleaned her arm and face.

The other three stood in the living room, watching her quietly. She rubbed her neck and looked down. "Sorry…anxiety attack. Had to get away from people for a moment. It was the only way I could calm myself down." Alex mumbled, still looking at the floor.

"Well…looks like we need to make a visit to Barts morgue." Sherlock announced after a while, staring down a picture.

"Are you saying that…" Irene trailed off, staring down at the same picture.

"Yes, he is currently laying in the morgue. Saw him last night. And this is Ray's best friend I gather?" Sherlock waved the picture in front of Alex, who kept her eyes tightly closed.

"Sherlock, she just went through an anxiety attack, do you want her to have another one?" John asked his best friend, glaring at him. Sherlock frowned and turned to study the girl in question.

"I suppose not. We'll ask her later, when she is perhaps feeling better." The detective turned to Irene. "To the morgue shall we?" The Woman laughed and nodded.

"I'll…I'll go too. I don't really wanna be left alone." Alex looked up at Sherlock, almost pleading with him to understand. The detective did. He knew what she had done to get herself to calm down, though neither of the other two could tell. He nodded slightly, and Alex knew in that moment that the detective knew all about her bad habit. She suddenly felt ashamed of herself.

The ride to the morgue was quiet. Alex had ridden with Irene, opting not to be alone with the detective, in order to avoid the talk she knew was coming. She also thought she detected a bit of uncomfortable feelings from John about the prospect of riding with the mysterious woman.

Sherlock and John were already at work in the lab, leaving a disgruntled Molly Hooper in the hallway to intercept their other two guests. Sherlock, as if knowing exactly when they stepped into the building, came out of the lab with a warm smile towards the two. "Molly, this is Irene and Alex."

"I…I know you!" Molly blurted, pointing at Irene. "You, you faked your death, and I remember your obituary the second time." She fumbled over words, her cheeks flaming. "How are you here?"

"With help of an old friend of course," Irene gave her a charming smile. "Can we see the morgue now?" Alex almost laughed at how to the point the woman was.

Sherlock was smirking behind Molly and Irene, and only Alex could see. This she did burst out laughing at, earning her an odd look from Molly. "Sorry…saw a bird run into the glass," the teen lied smoothly, watching Sherlock smile. The detective's face returned to a mask as Molly turned to study him.

"This way," the poor girl sighed, leading the three of them past the lab doors, where Alex could see John working, and through to the morgue. Two bodies lay on the cool metal tables, looking ready to tell their secrets. But Molly headed for the metal filing cabinets, lining the walls. Alex knew from watching TV that these weren't filing cabinets, but a big freezer full of tables that rolled out. Bodies laid on these, usually to keep them from decomposing before the morgue attendants have time to work on them.

Molly rolled out a particular one, and uncovered the dead man underneath. The man had thinning brown hair and was skinnier than even Sherlock. When Molly opened his eyes, Alex saw the brown that she remembered so well from when he'd come around the house. "That's Mark Grates, Ray's best friend and drinking buddy." She glared at the dead man, glad at least one of her stepfather's friends had suffered.

The small brunette nodded and replaced the sheet. "Is that all you needed?" She asked of Sherlock, who nodded and headed back towards the lab. Alex watched Molly start to talk to Irene, who just winked, slipped a piece of paper in Molly's hand and walked out of the room.

"How did you come around to hanging with this group?" Molly asked Alex, curious.

"Um, I'm really interested in the experiments and stuff Sherlock does, and I needed a place to stay. I've only been around for a week, but it's been interesting to say the least." Alex answered, smiling.

"Sherlock…working with him is quite interesting. He can be a complete dick at times, but he's bloody brilliant." Molly seemed pained to admit it. Alex nodded and walked towards the lab, curious as to what the boys and Irene were doing.

Sherlock, seemingly a statue, was at the microscope, studying…something underneath it. Irene stood nearby, waiting patiently. Alex couldn't see John as she strode it, hands stuffed in her pockets. The army doctor stood behind a machine, writing down results and setting the next experiment.

"What exactly are y'all doing?" The sixteen year old asked, glancing around the room.

"Dirt traces. Ray seems to be more than just a client." Sherlock muttered, writing something down. Alex frowned.

"Do you mean he was involved in something bigger?" Irene smiled at her and nodded.

"Nobody is friends with this joker unless they were in something serious. This is turning out to be rather fun." The mysterious woman commented in a singsong voice. Alex gritted her teeth against a growl of frustration. Irene was taking it all as a game, when Alex's life had been in danger not because Ray was a drunk, but because he was involved in something that potentially could've gotten her killed, and could still kill her mum and brothers.

She stomped away to where John was standing, absorbed in his work. She quietly observed, watching him change dials and press buttons. Alex got the queer feeling of being watched, and when she turned to the doorways, thought she caught the face of a man. She blinked in the millisecond and the face disappeared, leaving her to believe she'd never seen it.

She returned back to the flat hours later with both John and Sherlock. Irene disappeared, having said something about wanting to be under the radar, so the evening fell as the three of them stepped into the flat.

John yawned, stretching out both his arms and letting the vicious noise of sucking in air disturb the silence that had befallen them. He was obviously the only one the long day had taken a wear on, though Sherlock suspected the young teen would drop asleep at any moment. Alex seemed more awake, alert, and too strung up to sleep. She knew she needed to lie down, but she opted for the shower first, having felt the griminess that had become her hair.

When she jumped back out and threw on her black pyjamas, she noted that only Sherlock remained up, and he was watching out the window with the kind of posture that said he'd been waiting a while. The teen shifted from one foot to the next in the living room, hair dripping wet. She didn't know what to say to the detective. She'd been hoping he'd forget in light of the case, but, of course, she wasn't that lucky.

He moved suddenly, turning and grabbing her arm where the fresh cut was. She winced and tried to pull away, afraid he'd rip off the make-shift bandage she'd used to cover it with. "Alex, don't." He stared at her until she stopped struggling and slumped her shoulders in defeat. The wounded once gave a slight twinge, and she winced again as she realized just how much pain was coming from the bullet wound. "We need to talk about this." Alex, eyes wide, nodded.

"It all started when I was six…"


	4. Chapter 4

"It all started when I was six…" Alex bit her lip and looked down, recalling the memory like it had just happened yesterday. "I used to walk to school, everyday. It wasn't too far from where I lived, and my parents both had to get up to go to work early. Well, it happened this day was a half-day, and I had forgotten to tell my parents. I figured it wouldn't be a problem, since they both worked late. Mum and Dad hadn't been getting along well at all. Constantly fighting…so I didn't wanna be in the way." She sucked in a breath and plunged on, not meeting Sherlock's eyes.

"I walked into the house only to find my dad setting up lines for cocaine. I already knew what drugs were, having been around a friends family that did them in front of us, but I never imagined my own parents doing it. But there he was, already strung out and using shaking hands to set up lines. He met my eyes with the most heartbreaking expression…I stomped to my room and cried, loudly. It hurt thinking my dad would do something so stupid. Especially after he'd lectured me about it. He…he came to talk to me about it, told me not to tell Mum. So…I took it upon myself to help him. Big mistake." She finally looked up, tears gathering in the depths of her gray eyes.

"I begged, pleaded, hid, anything to get him to stop. Four years of that. And it was all in vain. I spent until midnight on some nights, telling him he didn't need it, couldn't have it. I lost friends because I spent all my time trying to set my dad right." The teen sighed and studied her scarred hands.

"He used to babble nonsense when he was drunk or high, would shake me and demand I understand. Sometimes, when he thought I wasn't looking, he'd get this depressed look on his face, when he was sober of course. I…I lost it when he died. I became enclosed and depressed. My mum didn't help much. She basically shut down. She would only take care of herself…" Sherlock tentatively patted her back, not sure how to handle the tears that flowed freely now.

"I was already bullied at school. I was reading high school books in third grade. I was already more independent than a teenager. Smarter than the average kid, both book and streetwise. It always bugged the other kids. I would sit in the café and just watch them, observe behaviors and take notes. I could tell the others moods, which freaked them out I guess. I didn't have any friends left, so I sat alone. I watched the other kids lead normal lives." The detective nodded at this as if he understood and just waited as Alex dried her tears.

"I started cutting around my eleventh birthday. I had a particularly bad day at school, having gotten into a fight, and…I just needed the pain to go away. I wanted to feel numb. I was tired of being hurt. So…I learned this self-harm thing from the Internet. I figured I'd try it…and it felt so good. At first they were just scratches, stuff I could pass off easily…but then it got to where I needed it to actually bleed. When I was thirteen, I cut at school, bad enough I needed stitches. A girl I'd vaguely known and seen around had walked into the unused bathroom, only to find me on the floor, passed out from the blood loss. We became friends after I came to terms with the fact she tried to save me…even when I didn't wanna be saved." She looked up and studied the recent cut, tracing its outline underneath the bandage.

"I suppose you know the rest really. I became well for a while after that girl saved me…but Mum met Ray, and everything just got worse. I had always wanted to leave America, so I at least got my wish when Mum moved me over here…" She sighed and shifted, looking up to meet the detectives eyes again. "Please, don't tell anyone else. I…I feel ashamed I broke again already. I don't want everybody knowing about this…" Alex pleaded.

Sherlock sighed and looked the teen directly in the eyes. "I won't tell anyone else, but you have to promise me you will stop. If you do this again…especially as bad as you did this time, I will be forced to take action. I have no wish to be you in a mental ward. But you can't do it again." Alex nodded, smiling sadly.

"Thank you Sherlock," she muttered as she hugged him.

The detective awkwardly patted her back and murmured back, "You're welcome."

The week started to slowly crawl by as Alex eagerly awaited her shoulder to be well again. She wanted to get back to her morning walks without the pain beating down her arm. Although she loved being at the flat, she missed her daily routine as it gave her time to think.

The teen spent most of her time helping Sherlock with experiments, or listening to his deductions about certain cases. She kept him company when John felt like going out. At night, when she couldn't sleep (which was almost always) she would listen to him play the violin and pretend she was a child again.

Occasionally, when Alex would go to the kitchen, she'd catch John staring at Sherlock, as if seeing him in a different light. The army doctor hadn't thought Sherlock would've liked the teen, as his cold demeanor generally never gave anybody a chance. But he would often hear the detective mutter under his breath how brilliant the girl was during experiments.

Never once did Sherlock mention Alex's cutting. He merely watched her with a knowing gaze as she moved about the flat. She would return the gaze with a smile and a thumbs up, when John wasn't around.

"Hey, I recognize him!" Alex pointed to the picture Sherlock had pulled up, having just jumped up to get some tea. Her shoulder was starting to feel a lot better, though it still twinged and throbbed when moved wrong.

"Of course you do, everybody does." The detective dismissed with a wave, paying close attention to the file he'd pulled up.

"Well, he used to hang around my dad. They would go into the den to talk, 'official business' he called it. His name was Jim Moriarty. I would remember that face anywhere." She tapped the screen and glared. "I didn't like him, and he certainly didn't like me. He came around Ray a couple times too, but he was much nicer. Said Jim was his twin, he was James. What a load of crap." The teen shook her head.

Sherlock was studying the young girl again. She raised her eyebrows at him and crossed her arms. "What?"

"You saw Moriarty when you were young…" his voice trailed off, eyes unfocused as he recalled some memory. "I wonder…" He turned back to the screen and pulled up Alex's file. There was a link in there to her dad's, which the detective immediately clicked instead of reading what little information there was on Alex.

Sherlock didn't mutter a word the rest of the night, not even when John came home from work. His eyes stayed glued to the computer as he absorbed everything he could about Alex's dad. When John kicked Alex's leg lightly, she looked up and paused her music, which had been blasting in her ear the past two hours, only to mutter a faint "Hmm?"

"What is he doing?" John whispered to her, watching his flatmate.

"Oh, looking up information on my dad apparently. I lost interest about three hours ago. A lot of boring junk in my dad's file. I'm surprised he could get it at all though…" the girl looked at her computer screen and started shutting it down. "I guess I'll go to sleep…see you in the morning." She stretched out on the couch and fell asleep in minutes, having been exhausted from the week before of no sleep.

John stood in the silent living room, eyes fixed on his best friend. Sherlock had not even looked up from the screen the entire time John and Alex were talking, much less acknowledged his best friend having come home safe. Just as the army doctor was about to trudge wearily upstairs, the odd detective stirred and looked at his flatmate.

"I think that Alex may have information about Moriarty." He announced, looking over at the teen worriedly. "She told me once that her dad would babble nonsense at her, but I think she knew exactly what he was saying. I think she learned something she wasn't suppose to know, her dad was killed for it, and she was so depressed she forgot completely what he said. Then, when she started remembering, Jim sent in Ray to help her forget again. Though the big lug went about it the wrong way." He muttered that last part, closing his eyes.

John stood there, staring at his best friend like he had suddenly grown two heads. "You think she knows something about Moriarty…something that could bring him down?" John muttered after a while. The detective nodded, eyes flashing. "I suppose it's possible. Could explain why she was shot shortly after he sent that text to you…we could help her unlock her memory." But Sherlock was already shaking his head and muttering.

"We have to give her time to remember that. She won't remember because we told her. We need to find out why she was pulled into it. And why Jim visited Mr. Wilhem before he died." John stared at his flatmate. "What?"

"You really care about this girl don't you? Like the child you never had?" The army doctor asked after a moment, studying his best friend.

Sherlock sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "She's a lot like me John. And she's got a brilliant mind. I want to protect her, yes, because it's the right thing to do, and it seems I've made a friend with her." He smiled softly at the girl. John managed a soft, sweet smile and laughed to himself.

"She is extremely smart. And I think you think of her as the child you don't have. She's become important in your life. Perhaps we can consider getting custody of her? God knows Sarah is too afraid to take her in." The army doctor chuckled at the idea of Alex living full time in the flat.

"I think we should John, really. It'd be nice to having somebody around here that appreciates my experiments. And…I think your right. I feel protective of her. She didn't deserve what Ray did to her."

"You know Sherlock, sometimes you can be the biggest jackass I know, but it's times like this…you would make a great father." John smiled one last time before going to his bedroom. Sherlock sat in silence, watching Alex breath deeply in her sleep and staring at the file before him.

From what he gathered, Alex's father had been a hit man for hire, originally in the CIA. After he'd been unfairly fired, he became an assassin to help cover hospital bills after his daughter had been born. Moriarty recruited him right away, needing someone in Texas apparently, who could travel around the area for him. In a way, the information only made the detective more protective of the young girl. She'd never known what her dad was really like, just the drugs and alcoholic side. She didn't need to know her father killed people for a living, but he knew that would be useful in unlocking whatever memories she carefully locked up.

The detective rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was caught between the new case, telling the girl about her father, and just going to Moriarty himself and demanding to know why he helped ruined her life. He knew the latter wouldn't help, as the consulting criminal was likely not to answer the detective's question. Finally, with a sigh, Sherlock Holmes did something he rarely did without the insistence of his blogger, he went to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

John came down the next morning to find Alex at the microscope, examining a specimen underneath. She had a notepad next to her, with her scratchy handwriting filling up almost all the space. She sighed as she adjusted the machine and looked up.

"Good morning." She smiled at him and set down her pencil. John was relieved to see she'd abandoned the usual all black in favor of a dark red shirt. He'd noticed in the time she'd spent with them she didn't wear any bright colors, such as orange or yellow. She also expressed deep disdain for the color pink.

"Morning. Where's Sherlock?" The army doctor made his way to the fridge and immediately regretted it. A big jar of large intestine was store there, right where the milk was supposed to be.

"Sleeping, I think. That's where he went after you went upstairs. I woke briefly to hear his footsteps before falling back asleep." She answered, watching his expression with her own amused one. "Oh, and the intestine is an experiment to see how fast something moves through." She added, smiling.

"Right…" John nodded along, pretending to understand. Alex rolled her eyes and turned back to the experiment. The army doctor turned as the door to Sherlock's bedroom opened and a very rumbled detective stumbled out. He smiled at John and then Alex, whom he was happy to see finishing up their experiment from the day before. "Get a good night sleep did you?" John asked with a smile.

"Oh, yes. Didn't even know I was tired." Sherlock walked over to the experiment and studied Alex's scrawled, messy handwriting. "Very good, brilliant." He muttered as he read, looking satisfied with the results. "I am going to make a quick run to Barts." The detective announced, startling John.

"I have work…are you going too Alex?" John asked the teen, who shook her head.

"I'm going to finish this up and perhaps just take some alone time. Don't get me wrong, but it's nice to have the quiet sound of just me around for an hour or two. If I get bored, I'll call a taxi down there." She replied, waving John off as she wrote down more notes.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked her, watching her every movement.

The teen turned around to smile. "I'm perfectly fine staying here by myself for a few hours." She rolled her eyes at the boys concern and checked her watch. Alex dully noted the time and finished up the experiment as both the flatmates walked out.

"Do you really think it's a good idea to leave her in the flat alone?" John asked Sherlock as they walked outside.

"I'm sure she'll be fine. If they wanted to kill her, she'd be dead. That gun wound was aimed at her shoulder, it wasn't luck that it hit there." The detective told his best friend.

They parted ways with a small wave.

It was an hour and a half later before anything interesting happened to the teen. The experiment had finished within the first half-hour, so the girl had contented herself with laying on the floor in a patch of sunlight and writing on her computer. Her music was turned up and blasting through the speakers. Which was probably why she'd never heard the doorbell…or perhaps that was because Sherlock had shot it.

Somebody cleared their throat behind her, making the girl jump almost guiltily as 'Numb' by Linkin Park played. "Oh, um, hi," she bit her lip and stood up to face the older gentleman, who leaned wearily against the doorframe. He had a receding hairline, which was the first thing Alex noticed.

"Hello. I'm not sure we've met. But you must certainly be in the wrong flat, as this one belongs to my brother." The older man had that air about him that reminded the teen slightly of Sherlock. Now that she studied his face, his nose even looked the same.

"Oh, you must be Mycroft. Sherlock has told me a lot about you. I'm Alex Wilhem, staying here temporarily while I arrange other plans with my aunt." She extended her hand out for a shake. Mycroft complied and studied her a moment.

"My brother really has been letting you stay here? How old are you?" He seemed surprised his brother would even consider it.

"Sixteen. I help him out with experiments and stuff. It's quite fun! And Sherlock and John are a delight to be around. Even when Sherlock is in his 'mind palace' I find it fun and easy." The teen shrugged and paused her music as it began to switch. "Is there a reason you stopped by today Mr. Mycroft?" Alex asked after a moment.

"Oh, just a case for Sherlock to take. Where is he anyway?"

"Barts. Had something to do at the morgue. Dunno how long he was going to be. Only been gone an hour and a half." The teen shrugged as if it didn't bother her and headed towards the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink?" Mycroft shook his head and helped himself to sit in John's armchair.

"Where do you sleep?" The man asked, incredulous. He knew the flat only had two bedrooms…unless…

"Oh, just the couch. It's alright, because I hardly sleep anyway." She waved her hand at the sofa, smiling. Mycroft silently let out a breath and smiled back.

"You seem like a bright child. However did you come into contact with these two?"

She shrugged again. "I ran from something…and John happens to work with my aunt, who can't keep me at the moment. John agreed to help…and I guess Sherlock just warmed up to me. We got along well the very second I got here." She sipped at a coke and sighed as the caffeine worked its way into her system.

"Ah…so you're a runaway then?"

"I suppose you could say that. I have no intention of going back either." She cut a sharp look at the man, who looked startled.

"Why would I ever do that? God knows you probably did it for your own good. And Sherlock sees something in you he likes or he'd never would've allowed you in his home. How long have you been here?" The older man sat forward, every nerve running like a live wire.

"Only about a week." Alex didn't understand why he thought it was an important question to ask. She pulled her phone out, typing in a long password before going to her messages.

_Your brother is here. Guess Ms. Hudson let him in while I was listening to music. Never heard him knock or anything. My suggestion? Get back before I go insane from the amount of questions he wants to ask. –AW_

She typed fast, her fingers flying over the screen. She learned quickly that putting her initials after a text to Sherlock kept him from wondering who it was, regardless of the fact that he had her number saved in his phone.

Keep him busy, I'll be there in five –SH

She nodded at her phone and slipped it back in her pocket. "He'll be back soon." She commented as she took a seat on the floor.

"Why sit on the floor?"

The teen looked up at the man and chuckled. "Because I'm weird. And I'm tired of sitting on the couch. The floor isn't so bad. Quite comfortable actually." Her hand strayed to her computer, typing in quick commands.

Time passed by with Mycroft thinking and Alex typing up a story on her computer. She didn't know how to distract the older man, as he seemed to exhaust himself of questions. To her, he was a lot like Sherlock, but not at the same time. Mycroft seemed more detached then Sherlock, and a lot more careful.

"Hello brother dear." The detective muttered as he came into the room. Alex looked up from her computer to manage a small smile before turning her attention back to the computer.

"Ah, Sherlock. I was just chatting with young Alex." The older man stood up, smiling and motioning towards the teen. Sherlock nodded and patted his pockets.

"Shit…it seems in my haste to get here I forgot an important file and some lab results. Alex, would you mind going to fetch them?" He turned to the teen who sighed and closed her computer, clambering to her feet.

"Not at all Sherlock." She smiled and headed out the door, glad to be away from the two brothers.

When she arrived at the hospital, she headed straight for the morgue area, where she knew Sherlock spent all his time, despite having been there only once. She whistled and sang as she walked, surprisingly in a happy mood.

Alex opened the door to the morgue lab, eyes slightly closed as she hummed her favorite song. "Hey, Molly, I need…" she stopped mid-sentence at the scene before her. Molly was sitting on the table, face flushed bright red. Standing before her was none other than Irene Adler, the very same girl who'd come to Sherlock for help with a file on Alex's dad's buddy. Alex had just walked in on the two kissing. She frowned and shuffled her feet. "Sorry…I just needed to get that file and results Sherlock left here. I didn't mean to disturb y'all."

Irene looked slightly annoyed but gave the sixteen-year-old a warm smile. Molly just looked horrified. "No, it's fine. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be doing something like this at work. I…I just got caught up in it. Really, I'm sorry. And he left those by the microscope." Molly flushed bright red again and looked down, only to have Irene make her look up again.

"Hey, don't be sorry. Not like you have anything else to do." Irene winked at her, causing Alex to laugh lightly as she grabbed the blue file. She looked over the last experiment, almost reluctant to go back to the flat. "Sherlock sure did leave quickly. Took one look at his phone and just…disappeared." Irene observed with amusement.

"Oh, yea. Mycroft showed up at the flat. I thought I'd text him to let him know. His brother was making me uncomfortable with all the questions anyhow. I can't help but think he left these on purpose, so I wouldn't have to be around for whatever they were going to argue about." The teen shrugged and looked at the file. "Oh, this is a file on my

dad." She didn't sound all that surprised.

Irene, despite her earlier annoyance, moved closer to the young girl to take a peak over her shoulder. "So that's your dad?" She spoke softly, studying the picture of the blonde haired man before her.

"Yea." Alex barely whispered it, her throat constricting at the thought of him.

"I can see where you get your looks from." Irene smiled sadly at her and returned to stand near Molly again, who hadn't moved nor spoken since she'd apologized to Alex.

"Thanks. Hey, don't worry about it Molly. I promise I won't tell anyone, and it's not like it bugs me all that much." Alex smiled at the nervous girl and patted her knee. "It really isn't a big deal. Just caught me by surprised."

Molly bit her lip and sighed. "I shouldn't be doing it in the work place…" she murmured.

"Eh, what's a little fun here and there?" Alex laughed. Irene grew a huge smile at this and even Molly managed a small chuckle. The teen's phone went off with a text and she sighed as she checked it.

Brother's gone. Need that file here now though. Please hurry. –SH

"Well, looks like I'm heading back to the flat. He is so impatient." She muttered, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "I will see y'all around I suppose. Bye!" She waved and smiled again as she headed out of the hospital.

The whole situation with Molly and Irene was peculiar. For one, Alex had never figured Molly to be attracted to other girls. She seemed flustered and awkward, like she didn't know how to act, around Sherlock. It was no secret to the girl that Molly had had a crush on him. For two, she never expected Molly to end up with anyone like Irene, because Irene is just…well, she's Irene. Alex really didn't need to focus on much else because her whole personality was described in just her name.


	6. Chapter 6

Alex arrived back at the flat singing softly, her mind still preoccupied with the events in the lab. She was surprised when Sherlock eagerly took the file from her and sat down to study it. She'd assumed he'd already know it backwards and forwards.

John was also home by that time, and in the kitchen, making tea. "Hey, care for some?" The good doctor asked her, smiling.

"Sure. How was work?" She asked him as a cup was handed to her.

"Oh, same old same old. Your aunt was asking about you." Alex looked over at the army doctor and smiled.

"Oh? And what did you say?"

'Told her the bullet wound was almost healed, the cut on your leg is hardly a scratch. And you've recovered nicely all around. She seemed pleased by this. She also told me Ray had been by looking for you."

Alex looked down into her tear and felt her stomach drop. "You're not gunna make me go back right?" She asked, trying to speak around a lump in her throat.

John placed a reassuring hand on her other shoulder and smiled softly. "No, we'd never do that. Not even Sherlock, who has been called heartless by many, would do that. You've become quite a joy to have around if I do say so myself." Alex smiled at him and gave him a hug.

"You know, he cares a great deal about you. I can tell. I think he feels guilty about something too. It's just a feeling I get when he thinks I'm not paying attention. Very peculiar." It was John's turn to look down into his tea.

"He's guilty because of what happened three years ago." He mumbled. Alex waited patiently for the doctor to gather his wits and tell her the story.

"See, he has this unhealthy obsession with Jim Moriarty because Jim is his archenemy. His only one really. When we were first dealing with the criminal mastermind, he was just giving clues to Sherlock about unsolved murders. It was a game. But, three years ago we got into a spot of trouble. Moriarty made him leap to his death." John stopped, eyes threatening to release the tears they were holding.

"Why?" Alex asked softly, curious.

"Because they were going to kill John, Ms. Hudson and Lestrade if I didn't. I couldn't lose the only person to believe in me. The only people to ever give me a chance." Sherlock's baritone voice came out soft and sad. "So I faked my death until I could kill all his helpers off."

John looked up at him and flexed his fist. "Single stupidest thing he's ever done. Still wish you would've told me."

"I wanted to. It hurt to see you suffer. But, John, you understand why I didn't. If there was any doubt that I had survived, they would've killed you." Sherlock sounded so sad, guilty. Alex frowned. She wasn't use to this show of emotion.

"I would rather die then hear that you died." John whispered. Both men had virtually forgotten about the teen, who rolled her eyes.

"Oh, just kiss and get it over with you two." She smiled and disappeared, going downstairs to see what Ms. Hudson was up to.

They both watched her go, startled. John bit his lip thoughtfully, still watching the stairs where she had disappeared.

"Stop that." Sherlock commanded, staring at him.

"What? Why?" John responded, frowning.

"It's distracting." Sherlock also frowned. John raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"What are you saying Sherlock?" John's voice remained strong, though he was slightly nervous. What did his flatmate and best friend mean? There was no doubt to John he'd felt an obvious attraction to the man, but he'd always assumed the feelings could never be returned. After all, he was Sherlock, the man divorced from feelings and married to his work.

"I'm saying, quit, it's distracting." Sherlock muttered, moving a step closer, uncertainly. Suddenly his hand shot out to cup John's face, which the army doctor gratefully leaned into. "John…I…"

There was a scream downstairs, followed by loud crashing that caused them to break apart. John looked towards the stairs with a worried expression. Sherlock was bounding down them in just two seconds, determined to get to the girl and Ms. Hudson. John scrambled after him, fearing the worst.

As it was, the scene before him almost made the army doctor laugh as he reached the landing. Alex was staring down a guy, who held a long gun aimed straight at her face, and shielding Ms. Hudson. The guy was Sebastian Moran, one of Jim Moriarty's hitmen. The best, according to research. Cops all across London were searching for him.

"I don't give two fucks what you do to me," she spat viciously, "but you will leave Ms. Hudson alone." Moran looked confused by Alex's stubbornness.

"I have a gun, and you're still willing to defy me? Do you have a death wish?" He asked, impressed and slightly annoyed.

"Why not? We all die in the end!" Alex huffed, staring straight down the nose. "I have been through hell and back my whole life. Do you really think I'm afraid of a gun that would probably kill me?"

Moran lowered his gun and glanced up at the two men on the staircase, trying to contain their laughter. He growled in response. It was suppose to be an easy job. Scare the kid off, make her have another anxiety attack or something to stop her from remembering. He hadn't counted on her stubbornness and willingness to die.

Alex stood tall and strong in front of Ms. Hudson, her bravery only wavering as she saw Sherlock and John descend the stairs. The only reason she'd ever wish to die is because her existence was pointless, futile. Nobody really cared for her. She was left to her own devices, to take care of herself, at an early age. But everything was starting to look up for her. The two men coming down the stairs had become two irreplaceable friends. The woman behind her was the grandmother she never got.

The tall man shook his head and retreated backwards, trying to decide on a different route. Jim wanted the girl alive, as she'd be useful later, but he didn't want her to remember what her father had told her all those years ago. Moran's original plan was to shoot the landlady, not kill her, as he saw that cruel, but the girl had jumped to defend the old woman right away. It seemed she had no fear, though the old lady sure had. She'd screamed as soon as she spotted Moran, and Alex had dropped her glass in haste of protecting Ms. Hudson.

She glanced upwards as Moran disappeared, smiling apologetically at the two. Both men were in hysterics, and even Ms. Hudson was starting to laugh. Alex shook her head and chuckled as her legs gave out. John was suddenly at her side, making sure neither one was hurt. She waved him off and popped her back, sighing in relief.

"Um…hey guys." An older man commented from the door, making Alex look up sharply. He was more concentrating on Sherlock, who descended the last few steps to stand in front of him.

"Lestrade? News?" The detective questioned him, ignoring the other three.

"Well, yes. Kidnap and murder. Twin boys."

"Well, there's got to be something wrong if you're coming to me about it."

Lestrade silently handed him photographs. Alex picked herself off the floor and went to look at them as well. Two arms were displayed beside a torso with initials clearly carved out in them. The arm on the left was obviously meant to be Sherlock's initials. The other one displayed J.M. proudly. The second picture showed another arm with the letters I.O.U. neatly carved. Blood still seeped from these wounds.

"The first picture, well, that's the twin that died. The other twin is in the hospital at St. Barts now. We're doing our best to find names and family members, but the one that survived just keeps asking for his sister." The detective inspector sighed.

"We'll go. Meet you there soon." Sherlock handed the photograph's back and turned to John.

"Ready when you are. Alex is coming too right?" The teen nodded and strode out the door, hailing a cab.

"John…" Words failed Sherlock as he stared at his flatmate. The army doctor smiled softly and grabbed his hand.

"You're fine." He gave Sherlock's hand a reassuring squeeze before stepping out after Alex. The detective sighed once his hand was empty again and tried to focus his mind to the new case.

The ride to the hospital was quiet. Alex had claimed a window seat, as had Sherlock, leaving John squished in the middle. He didn't mind much, especially when Sherlock intertwined their fingers and let John lean against him slightly. Alex smirked the entire ride and watched passing pedestrians.

They strode up to the desk and were intercepted by Donovan, who gave Sherlock a harsh glare and turned her attention to Alex. "Who are you?" She couldn't believe Sherlock would have another friend. She didn't know how John stood to be around him half the time.

"Um, I'm Alex ma'am. I'm sorta interning with Sherlock here." The teen muttered, looking to Sherlock for help.

"She's with me Sally. Another assistant if you don't mind." The consulting detective sighed. Sally eventually nodded and let the young girl past, shaking her head.

All three made it quickly to the room where the little boy was held. Alex could barely see the platinum blonde hair from where the boy was sitting on the bed.

"So, he's about three or four, and extremely terrified. Perhaps you should send John in for questioning." Lestrade commented as they rounded the corner. He made a brief note of the teen walking with them.

"I think Alex would be better for this situation." Sherlock replied, looking at the girl with a small smile. The teen shrugged and looked to Lestrade.

"Well, I suppose no one can be worse than you with children." The cop muttered under his breath, earning a smirk from Alex.

"SISSY!" The child immediately launched himself of the bed and into Alex's arms. She was startled when she realized it was her brother Nicky. His emerald green eyes were closed and silent tears were leaking down his face. She gripped him tight and kissed his head.

"Shh…it's all right Nicky, everything is alright." She muttered, holding her dear brother tight. _'That must've been Dean that Moriarty killed. Oh poor Dean…_Tears leaked out of her own eyes and she comforted the small four ear old.

Sherlock and John exchanged a look. It was obvious that Alex knew the child, and now Sherlock knew that she had to know something Moriarty didn't want her to know. And he was using two children whom she cared about to get to her and, he assumed, their father Ray.

"Hey, buddy, can you tell me what happened?" Alex asked after a moment, looking down at the small figure.

"Well, Daddy said we were going for a walk. Dean had yelled at me because I was crying. I missed you…where did you go?" Nicky looked up with the most heart-breaking expression Alex had ever seen on a four-year-old.

"To stay with some friends Nicky. What happened on that walk?" Alex smoothed down his hair.

"We were just walking peacefully, when this man came out of nowhere. He hit Dad a couple of times, real bad. I saw blood. Then he took me and Dean and shoved us in a car. He wouldn't say his name. We stopped and dropped another man off and then the man took us far away, into some abandoned plants. He kept talking about how you were dead, and soon we'd join you." Nicky gulped some air and looked up at his sister. "He…he told me that I'd grow up out on the streets. That only Dean was worthy of being with you." His eyes welled up again.

"Shh…" Alex rubbed his back and laid her cheek on his head. Moriarty had now made an enemy, worse so then he would ever imagine. Alex vowed vengeance as she helped the child climb into the bed and go to sleep.

"Will you stay here?" Nicky asked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.

"No, buddy, I'm going back to my friends, but Aunt Sarah will take you back to her house and I'll visit as much as I can." Alex smoothed down his hair again and watched the boy drift off. _Dean will get his justice. _She thought stomping back out to where her friends stood with the cop. "I'm going to kill this bastard."


	7. Chapter 7

The three men stared at her, dumbfounded. She had said it with such certainty, such anger. Even Sherlock, who had been out to get Moriarty since they first met, frowned at the animosity that seethed from her tone. "He will pay for what he did to my brothers. Sod Mum and Ray, but my brothers didn't deserve this. Dean was only four!" Tears leaked out as she spoke, and she wiped them with shaking hands.

"So…Sherlock, I forgot to ask, but who is this girl?" Lestrade asked the detective, who was staring at Nicky's sleeping form.

"This is Alex Wilhem. She's staying at the flat. She was trying to get away from her parents. And no, she's not going back." Sherlock cut a look at the cop, daring him to say more.

"Er, right. Alex, may I ask you a few questions?" Lestrade pulled out a pen and pencil and looked expectantly at the teen.

"Sure, shoot." Alex leaned on her good leg and crossed her arms, somehow managing to look annoyed and curious at the same time.

"How do you know the deceased?"

"He's my brother Dean Tomas Brines. My mum's husband adopted him and Nicky Brandon. Twins. Four years of age. Born on January 23." Alex sighed, rubbing at her eyes. She couldn't believe anybody would hurt the small children.

"And did you know their attacker?"

"If it's the guy I'm thinking of, Jim Moriarty, then yes. He's been around my family for years. Starting way back with my dad." Lestrade glanced up at this and frowned.

"We really must get going." Sherlock cut in, putting a gentle hand on Alex's shoulder. The teen glanced once more at her brother sleeping peacefully and nodded, biting her lip.

Lestrade smiled sadly and turned to Sally. "Make sure there's an officer guarding that door. I don't want anything else to harm the boy." Donovan nodded and turned to command another cop. Lestrade watch Sherlock, John and Alex walk out of the hospital almost sadly. _I wonder why he was looking for her. _

As soon as they entered the flat, Alex threw herself down on the couch and screamed her frustrations into a pillow. Sherlock and John just watched, waiting until she was done. "Sorry…it's just. God, everything is a mess." Alex punched the pillow for good measure and stood up to stomp into the kitchen. "I'm making tea, y'all want some?" She shouted back.

Both declined and looked at each other. "She's royally pissed off." John commented, earning a smile from Sherlock.

"Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out John." He replied, laughing lightly. The blogger just smiled back and looked to the kitchen. Alex had her back to them, standing rigidly as she waited for the kettle to fill.

"Sherlock…" John started, turning back to his best friend. He couldn't get the words out though, as the detective pressed his lips against the army doctor's. John, after the initial surprise, gave in and kissed him back, smiling. "Well, that was unexpected." He commented after they'd broken apart. He was fairly sure he had a goofy smile covering his face, but at that moment he didn't care.

Sherlock shrugged his thin shoulder. "Seemed like the perfect time to me." He smiled down at John. Alex couldn't hold in her laugh and turned to smile brightly at the two.

"Do I need to leave y'all alone?" She teased, cup of tea in her hand. John's face flushed bright red and he looked down. Her phone beeped loudly and she smiled as she checked the text. "Looks like our results are back. I'll run down and get them for you Sherlock." The teen laughed, bounding down the stairs before either one could protest.

Alex experienced a bit of déjà vu as she hailed a cab to the hospital for the second time that day. She chuckled at herself and thought about the two she'd left in the flat. It was obvious they liked each other the very first time Alex had seen them in the same room.

She paid the cab fare and made her way down to the morgue, whistling. Though she worried about her brother, she knew he would be in good hands with her aunt. She didn't much care about Ray or her mum though. _They could burn in the deepest, darkest pits and I still wouldn't give a damn, _she mused as she pushed open the door.

"Ah!" She covered her eyes quickly and sighed. "I'm gunna start texting you when I'm on my way here." She chuckled quietly. Molly blushed and pushed Irene away gently, giving her a sad, nervous smile. Irene pouted but slipped off her, hitting the floor with a soft thump. Molly sat up and bit her lip, her face still flushed scarlet.

"I'm assuming you're uh…here for the results?" Molly stuttered, refusing to meet Alex's eyes.

"Of course Molly," the teen laughed, rolling her eyes. "That, and leaving those two back in the flat," she smirked and moved towards the clean microscope. Irene smiled widely and stroked Molly's knee thoughtfully. Molly's face became redder, if that was even possible.

"They finally admit it?" She asked the teen after a moment, a cruel smile spreading over her lips. Alex made a sound of agreement and shared Irene's smile. "Good." She lost her smile and frowned at the wall for a bit. "Though I'm surprised it took them so long."

Alex stared at her. "I think neither one really wanted to admit it." She whispered, recalling their surprised expressions when she'd left them earlier. She'd looked back briefly, just to see what they thought. They hadn't reacted in any normal way aside from shock though. "I suppose I should get going, got a case to solve and everything. Thanks for the results Molly!" She smiled and grabbed a folder sitting on the desk.

"Oh, anytime." She replied quietly, smiling and waving as Alex left the morgue. Irene turned to her with a smile and wiggled her eyebrows. Alex could hear Molly giggle down the hallway.

The flat was eerily quiet when Alex walked in. Sherlock was at his computer, eyes flitting across the screen, but she saw no sign of John. "Here you go. Where's John?"

"Mm? Oh, thank you." He took the folder gingerly and leafed through the papers. Alex stood there with her arms crossed and waited, hoping he'd answer her second question. After a while, she gave up and moved to the couch, grabbing her computer on the way there.

John came down the stairs as quietly as he could and smiled at Alex before ruffling Sherlock's hair and going to make tea. Alex chuckled and shook her head.

"I'm working," Sherlock commented, annoyed. There was a hint of a smile on his face though.

"Great. Alex, tea?" John called out, rolling his eyes at Sherlock.

"Oh, uh, sure!" Alex replied, opening her computer and pulling up a new document. There were three tentative knocks on the door that drew her attention. John heard them too and shook his head when she started to go down to answer the door.

"I got it, it's a client I'm sure." John mouthed, trying not to disturb what Sherlock was working on. Alex nodded and sank back down, her anxiety suddenly raking up.

"Consulting detective Sherlock Holmes office…" John trailed off as he looked into the face of Ray Brines. "How may we help?" He finished lamely, his thoughts immediately going to Alex up in living room.

"Yes, please, help me! He took my boys!" Ray's gruff voice broke and his eyes watered. "I need help finding the bastard that killed my son and injured the other." He stood steadily in the doorway and looked up the stairs.

John sighed and nodded, letting him in. "Let me just…" Before John could take a step, the man was pounding up the stairs, startling Sherlock and Alex, who was looking over the detective's shoulder at the computer screen. The teen's eyes went wide and she froze where she was, her hand lightly resting on the back of Sherlock's chair.

Ray's eyes went wide as well, before his face settled into the fierce scowl he always wore around his step-daughter. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? I'VE LOOKED EVERYWHERE FOR YOU, YOU STUPID BITCH." He shouted, stumbling towards her. Alex backed up quickly, eyes wide with fear. Sherlock stood, eyes fiercely smoldering.

"You will not touch her. You will not call her such nasty names. And you sure as hell can't have her back at your household. I suggest if you want my help, that you leave my friend alone." His voice was low, deadly, and Ray stumbled back as if he'd been hit.

"She doesn't deserve friends. She hardly deserves to live." Ray mumbled, glaring. Alex glared back. Sherlock put a comforting hand on her shoulder and she visibly calmed down.

"I would suggest you sit down Mr. Brines, if you want our help." Sherlock growled, watching the big man take a seat on the couch. Alex watched Sherlock walk over to his armchair and John take a seat in his. She stood in the kitchen doorway, feeling extremely uncomfortable. "Alex, go check on Ms. Hudson, see how she is." Sherlock suggested, smiling kindly at her. She nodded and went downstairs.

"Why the hell did you do that to her?" Sherlock rounded on the man, who looked fearfully at John.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Ray shouted. "It was all discipline. She was an extremely trying child. Her mother never did anything about it, and it's obvious her attitude came from her dad."

"Attitude? She's nothing but nice around here. Helpful too. A very bright student indeed. She was scared out of her mind. That's not discipline, that's bullying. She didn't deserve anything you did to her. She already had a rough life. You had to go and make it worse." Sherlock growled at him, hands gripping the back of his chair so hard the knuckles turned white.

"Say what you will, but she's my daughter! You didn't live with her before! Helpful!" Ray snorted. "She was lazy. And always complaining about the kids at school. Her mother told me that was the best way to get her in line. She gave me permission."

"She's not going back with you." John stated calmly.

"Like hell she isn't!" Ray shouted again, rounding on the doctor. "It's her fault Dean is dead and Nicky is in the hospital. She needs to pay for what she's done." Ray glared at the two detectives. "Are you going to help me or not? I wanna find the bastard that did this to my sons!" Sherlock's jaw locked as he stared at the man.

"Are you sure it wasn't Moriarty?" Ray blinked.

"I know he sent the man. And it sure as hell wasn't Moran. I've never seen this guy before. Bald, ruddy eyes. Fashion sense of a clown." It wasn't enough details for Sherlock, but he found he didn't care. If he was going to find the murderer, he would do it for Alex, not the man sitting before him.

"Listen here you piece of shit," John leaned forward. "That girl you beat severely? She's just as worried about her brother and just as pissed as you are. Now, we're not doing this for, but for her. You personally deserve to be thrown in jail, along with your wife. And I promise you, as soon as we find this guy and take him down, we're going after you." His voice was low, calm, and not at all threatening. But there was no mistaking the flashing glint in his eyes that meant he was completely serious.

Ray gulped audibly and glared at the ceiling. "Oh, and Alex is moving in with us. Since you obviously can't take care of her, and she's much happier here." Sherlock added. Ray's eyes widened and he looked like he was about to argue again. He wisely shut up and stood up.

"You'll never catch me on abusive charges. I haven't done anything wrong." Ray sounded confident, but, inside, he felt himself shaking. "But thanks for finding my boys killer, even if I'm not the reason behind it." And he left down the stairs, pausing at the door as Alex came out of Ms. Hudson's flat, laughing. She stopped as she spotted Ray leaving. Her eyes were accusing, and her body set was rigid with fear and anger. "Till next time. You will be coming home with me." Ray sneered, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Only in your dreams." Alex whispered after he was gone, shaking.

"Come on, let's get you something to eat. You're pale. Also, you look like you need to get some sleep." John commented, tugging the teen by her T-shirt up to the flat. Alex gladly complied, eating her fill and falling into a deep, troubled sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

The two flatmates watched the young girl sleeping, slightly worried. She shifted positions, whimpered and shivered underneath the heavy blanket. They could only imagine what was going through the young girls mind at that moment.

"Sherlock," John waited for his best friend to respond, watching Alex roll over and wince.

"Hm?" The detective was still staring at her, a worried frown on his face. He ran through the scene with Ray over and over, reminding himself that the man was a threat.

"Do you think he can really make her go back with him?" John asked after a hesitant moment, eyes moving to search Sherlock's face for a response.

"He can try." He responded, glancing back at John. "She doesn't deserve whatever he thinks she does. I'm not about to let him take her back. Plus, she's helpful around here. And happy." He smiled softly at the girl who whimpered once more.

John watched her quietly, smiling sadly. He was glad that she was happy, but he worried they wouldn't be able to stop Ray. He'd seen the man himself, saw the bruises and pain he could inflict. Saw the fear in Alex's eyes, even when she tried to hide it beneath false bravado.

Sherlock reached a hand back, twining his long fingers with Johns. The army doctor gently squeezed his best friend's hand and sighed. The case was changing a lot for the both of them, as well as the child they were taking care of. _Perhaps for the better,_ John thought, suppressing a yawn.

"You can go to bed if you want John," Sherlock whispered, as if he was afraid he'd wake Alex. John shook his head tiredly.

"Not unless you go too." He mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. Sherlock smiled back at him.

"Fine. Let me try to ease her sleep a little first." The detective slipped his hand out of John's and moved to grab his violin. The girl shuddered and whimpered again as she moved to lie on her belly. Her fist clutched at the blanket desperately, knuckles turning white. The melody Sherlock began to play quieted her instantly, and a faint smile crossed her face as she curled up on her side. Her arms hugged a pillow close to her, but they were relaxed. Even John felt the lull of sleep in the beautiful and sad melody the detective pulled out of his violin.

Sherlock chuckled as he finished, smiling at Alex's now peaceful face. "The power of music," he mused out loud, looking over to John. The army doctor was struggling to keep his eyes open. He gave Sherlock a sleepy smile and shaking thumbs up, before staggering to his feet to head to bed. "Come on," the detective laughed, helping John stagger towards his own bedroom. The army doctor looked confused momentarily, but lost it as he gratefully fell onto Sherlock's bed and curled up to sleep.

Alex's eyes opened to sudden darkness. She had a fleeting moment of panic as her last nightmare came to mind before she realized she was still in the flat, curled in a ball on the couch. She couldn't remember the last time she'd rested so deeply, but she was grateful for it.

With blurry eyes, she checked her phone for the time. "Four in the morning," she muttered, disbelieving. She never got up that early unless it was something extremely important. She groaned internally, throwing her hands over her eyes.

_What the hell brain? Is it really that hard to sleep? I mean, God. What am I suppose to do until they get up? Just lay here? Damn. _Alex punched the pillow in frustration and rolled to her feet, quietly making her way to the kitchen. "No more soda…" she groaned, rubbing her temple. _Okay, it's okay. You can find something to do surely. _She cast eyes into the living room again and sighed.

An hour later she was sitting on the couch, furiously typing on her computer with music plugged into her ear. Above the loud noise of Nickelback, she could hear delicate footsteps coming up the stairs and she looked up curiously as Irene Adler walked in, looking around the darkened flat.

"Asleep?" She asked the teen, who nodded and rolled her eyes with a smile.

"You're welcome to sit down and chat until they wake up though." Alex indicated one of the two armchairs. Irene nodded and perched on the edge of John's, studying the teen.

"How can you be so accepting?" The Woman asked after a moment, causing the teen to look up again. She frowned as she tried to think of a response.

"What do you mean exactly?" She asked after a moment, her computer all but forgotten about.

"When you walked into the lab that one day, you simply accepted it and moved on. You didn't even seem bothered by the fact that two girls were kissing. Why?" Irene seemed extremely curious, and Alex found herself chuckling.

"What's the point of getting bothered by it? Not like it effects me either way. Love is love, regardless of gender, race, money or position." The teen shrugged and smiled at her. "I know how the world reacts, and I say sod the world, because they're full of a bunch of idiots anyway."

Light was beginning to seep into the room, casting a warm glow over the furniture. Alex watched it progress with slight fascination. "Everyday the same sunlight, with different opportunities." She muttered, closing her laptop absently. Irene smiled at her and turned her head as Sherlock came stumbling out of his room. He rubbed at his eyes and peered at Irene.

"Oh, hello Irene." He yawned, taking a seat in his armchair.

"I'm assuming your pet is still asleep then?" Irene commented, flashing him an innocent smile.

"John is still asleep. Though not for long I'm assuming. Ah, there he is." Sherlock flashed his flatmate a smile as the army doctor also stumbled out of Sherlock's room.

"Morning," he mumbled, making his way to the kitchen. He didn't even register the woman sitting in his chair till he had come back with three mugs of tea. "Oh, terribly sorry Irene. Would you like a cuppa?" John yawned again as he handed one of the mugs to Sherlock.

"Sure." Irene smiled at the doctor.

"She can have mine John, I'll make me some later." Alex spoke up, smiling. John frowned at her. The teen shrugged and fiddled with her headphones for a minute. "I don't mind, really. Not like it's important for me to have tea." Irene smiled gratefully and took Alex's mug. John sat down next to the teen and heaved a sigh.

"So, what brings you here this early in the morning?" Sherlock asked Irene, causing the woman to look over at him.

"I was wondering if you had anymore news on my client. He was quite spooked yesterday. And kept mumbling about wanting to kill you. Seems he came to you for help then?" Alex shuddered at the memory and let her head fall to conceal her eyes.

"Mm…yes, and he left quite dissatisfied if I remember correctly." Sherlock clasped his hands together and studying Irene. "He was asking about the killer for his young son who also injured the other one. We, of course, already know who it is. The only proof one would have is Ray's description, which I'm sure the police barely listened to."

"His sons? What happened there?" Irene questioned, puzzled. She knew he had two boys, twins, he told her that much.

"Nicky and Dean were attacked." Alex whispered. "Dean didn't survive. Nicky did, but he's scarred for life now." She gulped back angry tears and stood up. "Sarah was suppose to be picking him up from the hospital today. I think I'll go visit them here pretty soon." She glanced wistfully at her phone. The numbers glared seven at her.

"Sit down and stay awhile Alex. She's not going to get him until eight." Sherlock muttered, watching the girl.

"Fine, but let me make myself some tea first." She moved to the kitchen while the adults watched her.

"I've never seen a more concerned sister in my life." Irene murmured, curious.

"You can hardly blame her. She feels responsible for what happened to them." John commented, frowning slightly.

"So, Ray seemed spooked?" Sherlock asked Irene after an intense silence had befallen the adults.

"Oh, very. He was almost afraid to talk on the phone. Said _he _would be watching, listening. He also cussed the kid out a lot. And you." Irene shook her head. "I asked him to explain, but he just hung up."

"He'll do that when he's pissed or scared." Alex commented as she walked back into the room. "And it's no surprised he was cussing me out. He probably blames me for what happened to Dean. And poor Nicky." She sipped her tea quietly, looking down.

Irene tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully. "I'm surprised he hasn't started running. Moriarty isn't easy to get away from then again."

"You think he hasn't started? He's slow, but he wants to make sure everything is done right. I assure you Ray is getting ready to move, with or without Nicky. He'll change his name and move out of the country. It's exactly what he would do I'm sure." Alex leaned forward, eyes still on her cup of tea.

All three adults stared at her as her phone started to ring. She sighed and slipped it out of her pocket, checking the caller ID. "Hey Aunt Sarah." She waited a minute, biting her lip. "He's really not eating?" Silence. "God, okay, I'll be over in a bit." She hung up the phone and stood up, giving them all a sad smile. "I'll see y'all later. Nicky apparently won't eat. He keeps whining about me. Joy. Bye!" She waved as she left the flat, a feeling of dread settling in her stomach.

The three adults watched her leave. John and Sherlock shared a long look before the detective got up to watch the teen hail a cab outside the flat. "Something doesn't feel right…" he whispered, watching the cab weave itself into the traffic.

"She'll be fine I'm sure." Irene was not only trying to convince the boys, but also herself. They all felt that sense of dread. Something big was travelling their way, though what they didn't know.

Alex sat in the back of the cab, quietly observing the London scenery as they zoomed towards her aunt's house. The cabbie was purposely taking the long way around, maximizing the amount of money the young girl would have to pay. She didn't mind much though. She was using Ray's money after all.

The cabbie didn't say a word the entire trip, which took all of thirty minutes. The closer they got to the destination, the more nervous Alex became.

When they arrived at the flat, the first thing Alex noticed was that her aunt had left the door wide open. She paused only to pay the cabbie before marching up the walkway and into the house. It was dark and silent, not at all what the girl was expecting. She began searching the rooms for any sign of her aunt or little brother. _Perhaps they haven't made it back from the hospital yet, _her mind tried to rationalize. No…that didn't make sense. Her aunt had been home when she'd called earlier.

"Aunt Sarah? Nicky?" She called frantically, her anxiety starting to rear its ugly head. The only room she had yet to check was the master bedroom, and she almost dreaded what she might find in there. She peeked around the corner cautiously. She saw her brother, eyes wide and scared, sitting on the floor in front of a chair. His mouth was gagged, Alex noticed. As she walked into the room, she realized her aunt was sitting in the chair, arms bound behind her back and a cut on her head bleeding profusely. She was unconscious.

Nicky's eyes got wider and he tried to warn his sister as the butt of a gun cracked sharply across her skull and the girl fell to the ground, head pounding. "Shouldn't have come little girl," a voice whispered, velvety and soft. Alex tried to desperately get up, but a sharp kick to her side sent the air rushing out of her lungs. Nicky was screaming behind his gag, and Alex registered another harsh crack as whoever had attacked her slapped the small child.

She felt her arms being pulled behind her back and tried to find strength to resist. But the wound in her shoulder was on fire now, as if the attacker had somehow managed to reopen it. A gag was place in her mouth and the last thing she was aware of was being lifted and set down in someone's arms before she succumbed to the inky darkness of unconsciousness.


	9. Chapter 9

There was a buzzing sound in her ear and throbbing at the back of her skull. Alex was painfully aware of these facts as she woke from her unconscious state. The burning in her shoulder had decreased to a pitiful sting, but there was a sharp pain in her middle, probably a cracked rib from where her attacker had kicked her.

She opened her eyes slowly, taking in the dim lighting of the bare room. She'd been dumped unceremoniously on the floor, with her arms behind her back. Carefully, Alex struggled to a sitting position, noting the steel door on wall to her left. The whole room smelled of mildew, and she thought she spotted mold in the darkest corners. She was the only thing in the room besides a bare light bulb hanging by a string.

"Oh, look, she's awake." A voice laughed, coming from all sides of the room. It was a voice that sounded eerily familiar. Alex shivered and glared around her, searching for the hidden speaker. She still had the gag around her mouth, but it didn't stop her from growling in frustration.

The steel door opened silently, and the man that walked through smiled at her vacantly. Alex was grabbed roughly by the arm and made to stand. The man pushed her in front of him, forcing her to stumble as blood rushed downwards. She cursed behind the gag and tried to donkey kick behind her. There was a crunch and winded "oomph!" before she was being pushed down the hallway faster. Alex allowed herself a smirk and continued, keeping her eyes straight.

The room they entered next was blinding white. Everything looked like it'd come out of a disinfected lab. There were stainless steel tables covered in various chemicals and equipment. In the middle sat three chairs, two of which were already occupied. Alex's heart leapt at the sight of her little brother and aunt. Nicky's head was down, but he seemed unharmed, and somebody had been kind enough to bandage up the cut on Sarah's head.

"Sit," a gruff voice grunted, pushing Alex towards the third chair. She complied and carefully sat down, away of the gun the man was hiding beneath his jacket. The gag was taken off, as were the bonds around her wrist. Alex made no noise and only moved to rub at the marks left on her wrist. The man left without another word.

"I'm glad y'all are alright." Alex whispered, looking at her aunt. The skin around the gash was turning a fantastic mix of black and blue, and she seemed paler than usual.

"Don't worry about us. It's you they wanted. It's you they got." Sarah muttered back, somewhat sadly. "If I hadn't called you, you wouldn't be here with us."

"No, but you might be dead." The words stood between them, and spooked little Nicky, who looked up with wide eyes. "We're going to be fine buddy." Alex soothed, smiling at the child. Nicky bit his lip and the tears welled up. The teen wanted so badly to go over and hug the small child, but was afraid of what would happen. "Someone will come get us. I promise."

Sherlock paced the length of his flat, trying to shake the feeling of something being wrong. Irene had left hours ago, mumbling something about a date, and John had run to the store for more milk and soda.

"This isn't right…" Sherlock looked down at his phone and frowned. He didn't expect Alex to be gone all day. She knew there were experiments to be done. He also knew she never missed out on experiments because they fascinated her.

"Are you okay Sherlock?" John asked as he arrived in the flat, groceries in hand.

"Fine." The detective muttered, making another round of pacing. Surely she would call if she was staying later than she should.

"Any word from Alex?" The army doctor asked, watching his friend.

"None at all." The detective frowned again and sent a quick text.

Where are you? –SH

"I can call Sarah if you like?" John offered.

"Why do you even have her number?" Sherlock asked, frowning at him. John rolled his eyes and stopped his flatmates pacing.

"I did fancy her for a time. Plus, she's my boss, I have to know her number." The detective sighed and reached for John's hand, a troubled look deep in his eyes. "Right." John nodded, understanding without needing words. He dialed the number, waiting patiently. It went to voicemail, and John felt the panic come back fresh. "She usually answers…" He frowned at the phone.

"John…I think they were kidnapped." Sherlock commented, staring at his phone.

"Oh God, what makes you say that?" The detective turned his phone so his best friend could see.

_Oh, your new pet is so much fun! I might just keep her. Oh, and the small child. You want them back, you'll have to find us. Come out and play Sherlock –JM_

John gulped back a scream and looked at Sherlock, who'd gone pale. "We have to find her." Sherlock whirled around to grab his coat and scarf.

"First thing we do is go to Sarah's house and work from there." John nodded and followed Sherlock, hoping they wouldn't be too late.

Alex counted seconds and closed her eyes, hoping to drift off. She had no idea how long she'd been passed out, but she knew that it'd probably been a while.

"I'm afraid." It was the first thing Sarah had said within the last two hours. Alex looked up sharply to see her aunt crying.

"Why?" The teen wanted to hug her aunt now, but once again was afraid to move.

"Did I ever tell you I was getting married Alex?" Sarah looked at her, tears rushing freely down her face. Alex shook her head. "Next month. He's a wonderful guy. And now I'm afraid I might not get the chance."

"How long?" Alex croaked out, trying to speak around the lump that formed in her throat.

"I've been dating him for a little over a year." Sarah whispered. "I tried to keep it quiet, neither of us wanted people making a big deal about it." Alex nodded as if she understood. "But…we were going to announce the wedding to our friends and family next week."

"Don't worry. John and Sherlock will find us, I'm sure of it." Alex tried to comfort her aunt, who shook her head. "They will. I wasn't supposed to stay late at your flat. Sherlock and I had experiments planned for today. They're bound to notice something is wrong."

A door behind Alex opened up, and the nice tap of shoes filled the silence. "Hi!" Jim Moriarty smiled at them as he walked into the middle of the triangle the three chairs made. Alex merely glared at the man.

"Oh, little Alex is so grown up!" Jim pinched her cheeks, teasing her.

"Leave me alone." She growled, tempted to kick the man.

"Ooh, so scary. Tell me, did Sherlock teach you that?" Nicky shrunk into his chair as Moriarty moved to study him. "Look at you, so young. So adorable! I could just eat you up." Jim smiled and Nicky cowered some more, tears leaking down his face.

"What do you want?" Alex snapped, getting Jim's attention again. The man moved her sleeve to study the round bullet wound.

"Oh, yes, healing nicely. So glad I told Sebbie not to kill you. You're a lot of fun. I'm surprised he didn't manage to scare you enough. I thought for sure you'd run from Sherlock. But, no matter. This way is much more fun anyhow." Jim laughed out.

"What the hell are you talking about? Of course a bullet wouldn't scare me away. And that man you sent? Oh hell no!" Alex got up, fist clenched together. The door behind her opened again and Jim raised an eyebrow.

"I'd sit down if I were you Ms. Wilhem. Wouldn't want my Sebbie to have to drug you now would we?" Alex sensed the man behind her and sat down slowly, knuckles turning white.

"What do you want?" Alex growled out, glaring at the man before her.

"I want to know what you remember." Jim leaned forward, eyes intent on Alex. "And I will do anything to keep you from remembering." Alex glared the man down, never adverting her gaze. "Brave one aren't you?" She remained silent as Jim nodded to Seb and smiled down at her. "Persuasion it is then."

"There's no evidence she was ever here!" John shouted as he finished around the house. He'd left the master bedroom largely untouched, but came out of one of the bathrooms to find his flatmate disappearing into said bedroom.

"Oh, yes there is." Sherlock yelled back, standing in the entrance to the room. Alex's phone was on the floor, along with a knife she'd had hidden on her person. Sarah's phone was on her bed, which was tousled. Blood stained the carpet and the single chair that was sitting in the room.

"Shit." John breathed as he came to stand besides Sherlock. The detective cast his eyes around the room until they landed on a slip of paper. It was in a child's messy scrawl, but still legible.

"Sister is asleep. Aunt is asleep. Wear house? White. Cold. Scared." Sherlock read out loud, shuddering. The child knew how to spell, for a four year old that is. John frowned as he spotted another piece of paper, clearly written in Sarah's handwriting and stuffed under the bed in haste.

"They've found us, and now they're taking us. Some industrial warehouse, something about a lab apparently. Said we won't leave until Alex gets here. I have made a mistake in calling her. Help us, please!" John blinked, and showed the note to Sherlock, who frowned.

"Industrial warehouse…with a lab inside…" He trailed off in thought, searching his mind palace for any sort of clue. John stood there awkwardly, eyes roving the note over and over. "Oh!" Sherlock suddenly shouted, rushing out of the flat. John followed hastily, wondering where in the world they were rushing off to next.

"You know what I remember? You're a douchebag." Alex spat, glaring.

Jim raised his eyebrows and wagged a finger. "Oh, no, no, no need for such language." He smiled gleefully as Seb handed him a chemical. "You know what this is don't you?" Alex kept her lips closed. Of course she knew it was a dangerous, corrosive acid that could potentially burn right through your bone, but she wasn't about to say it out loud, where her brother and aunt could hear. "Oh, you do!" Jim sang, wiggling it about dangerously.

Alex watched as he dipped an ear swab into the liquid. It dissolved on contact. Nicky made a squeaking noise and hid his face against his arms. Sarah watched on with sad, fearful eyes. The only thing the compound wouldn't dissolve was stainless steel, though she had no idea why. She'd been planning on asking Sherlock eventually, as the question was always burning at the back of her mind.

As if he'd read her thoughts, Jim produced a stainless steel rod and dipped it into the acid. Then, careful as to avoid contact with his own skin, brought it back out and dangled it over Alex's bare arm. Alex gulped and tensed, waiting for the burning sensation to begin. It wasn't enough to burn through to her muscle, but she knew it'd leave at least a second-degree burn, if not a third. Jim smiled, as if savoring the moment and pressed the rod down. Alex gritted her teeth against a scream and tightened her fist. The burning was intense, and she was afraid she might pass out again.

When the rod was pulled away again, the skin where it was pressed was black and the air around her stunk of burnt flesh. Alex's stomach did flips, and her head swam with pain. "Was that not painful?" Jim asked, joyfully. His smile grew bigger as Alex grimaced in pain. "I think your brother and this other pretty thing deserve matching ones, don't you?" Alex shook her head, trying to sum up the strength to glare.

Sarah gulped and yelled as Jim moved closer to Nicky. "Adults first? Fine." Jim smiled and moved to Sarah, who cringed away.

Alex surged to her feet and grabbed at the acid before Jim had the chance to hurt her aunt. Jim's face registered surprise as they both went crashing to the floor, and the chemical was tossed across the room. Alex was surprised none of the liquid splashed on anybody, but was satisfied with the hole in the white floor.

"Drug her." Jim growled, shoving the teen off him. He wiped off imaginary dust and glared at the girl as she smiled at him. "Just wait young one." Alex was aware of a stick in her shoulder before her vision went blurry and she fell into blackness once more.


	10. Chapter 10

It took too long to arrive in the correct neighborhood where the warehouse was. Sherlock was irritated and impatient, snapping at every little thing that made him mad. John had sat next to him, silent and thoughtful the entire trip, stealing glances out of the corner of his eye. Underneath the sultry expression was raw worry. The blogger didn't know his flatmate was capable of worrying about another human being, aside from himself.

He muttered the entire way, never saying any direct words. John was surprised he hadn't blurted out how he'd figure Sarah, Alex and Nicky were being held. Sherlock seemed to seek appraisal from him, which John didn't mind. The blogger rather enjoyed how the detective had deduced everything down so quickly.

The cab stopped on the sidewalk in front of several neatly kept grounds to warehouses. Most were unused, evident by the decaying bricks and shattered windows, but one or two had recent paint jobs. From what John could see, several boxes were stacked in either of the two, with men moving around inside, finishing their shifts.

Sherlock was already studying them with a practiced, efficient eye. He noticed every crack, every spec of dust within minutes. He wandered closer to a run-down warehouse that was abandoned not long ago. "Dust patterns have been disturbed here recently." He pointed out to John, who frowned and nodded. They shared a silent look in which they both slipped guns out of their hiding spots and stood at the door.

"If they're in a lab, they're most likely downstairs. I have no doubt he'll have guards everywhere though." Sherlock murmured, watching the windows quietly. John nodded, staring at his best friend. He felt a little pride in how far the detective had come from his cold demeanor the first time they'd met. Sherlock looked back at him curiously. John shook his head and smiled. Sherlock leaned down and pecked his best friends' lips before smiling again. "Be safe, keep your head down. Look for stairs." And with that the detective was gone, the door swinging open before the army doctor had a chance to respond.

Alex woke up with her head pounding. Her vision was fuzzy and she felt slow. They'd locked her in the room again, not bothering to bound her hands. The spot on her arm burned fiercely, and Alex was tempted to scratch it. _Don't, _she gently reminded herself, staring around the room. The bare light bulb above her head sputtered weakly then gave out completely. Alex frowned into the darkness as her eyes adjusted.

"Awake again. Perhaps you would want to behave?" Jim's voice sang over the speakers. If there was anything Alex hated more than abuse, it was being drugged. It made her brain feel like mush after words, and she always lost precious time in her drugged out state.

"Perhaps. Do you plan on actually being nice?" She growled, standing as the door slid open again. Moriarty's disembodied voice laughed as Alex once again marched her way to the lab. She glared at the floor and counted each footfall. _Twenty…thirty…forty…_They stopped in front of the door, waiting as it swung open to reveal the pristine lab.

Moriarty was already there, Nicky held in his arms like a four-year-old should be carried. The boy was crying, and desperately trying to wiggle his way out of the strange man's grasp. Alex glared but stayed put, arms crossed over her chest. The criminal was clearly waiting for the girl to rush at him. When she didn't, he smiled brightly and set the boy down, who darted for an open door where Sarah was standing.

"I can see that physical harm is not enough." Jim started, moving a couple steps forward. Alex watched him wearily, eyes bright and curious. "But you must respond to threats. The way you acted yesterday proved as much. There's something more though." He tapped a finger on his chin and seemed lost in thought. "Ah, your father."

Alex struggled to keep any emotion of her face, though anxiety and anger immediately rushed in to replace her curiosity. Jim's eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas as he smiled knowingly. "I do remember the mate. He was quite a dear one to me. Great follower. Hardly questioned. I also remembered he so loved you. He adored you." Alex swallowed and she fought the impulse to launch herself at the man before her.

"If I remember correctly, he was so dedicated to you that he would kill _anyone _just to make sure you were safe. He really must've gone off the deep end. Last I heard he was dying of a drug overdose. But that's not what really happened is it?" Jim smirked as Alex shook her head. She fought for control as tears rolled down her face. Sarah and Nicky watched on, worried.

"I read the real report, the one they didn't release to the public." Jim mused, stepping around the teen slowly. "Stabbed five times, shot three, suffered various burns on his arms before his heart finally gave out on him. I can only imagine the torture, the suffering, and all the while his little ten year old watched. Wrong place? Oh no, the police were sure they'd done that to threaten her. She knew something she shouldn't." Jim stared at her here. The tears were positively gushing now. Her throat was tight and swollen, her heart felt as if it was breaking all over again.

"I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" She shouted, letting all the pain out in the one wail that rattled the glass. As if on a cue, the lights shut off, leaving the room in completely darkness. Alex's eyes adjusted enough to register two shadows that were out of place, and one rushing towards her with a syringe in hand.

Sherlock was quick and silent when he wanted to be. By the time John had gotten inside the door, three guards lay dead around the entrance. There was some scuffling further along the corridor, and then a muffled gunshot. Sherlock's face appeared around the corner and he quickly ushered the doctor towards him. "I've taken all the ones out down here, the stairs are that way." He pointed a long, slender finger to an opening with rails on three different sides. Light flooded the floor around this area. "There's a power box on the wall in this other room. When I shut the lights off, I need you to rush down there. Take to the right. From what I could tell, Sarah and Nicky are seperated from Alex and Jim. There's a guard behind Alex. The door behind Sarah is open, no doubt housing more guards. Be silent and quick about it. We need them out as soon as possible." John nodded and held the gun at the ready.

The light shut off and John was quick to trot down the stairs, heading in the direction that Sherlock had indicated. Like the detective had said, Sarah and Nicky stood in an open doorway, eyes wide. Sarah's mouth parted slightly as if to scream before John spoke in a whisper. "Shh, come with me." Sarah nodded and pushed the four-year-old in front of her. The boy made a squeak as he stared at his sister. He turned away as she dropped, striking her head against the floor. The guard picked her up and took off for a doorway at the other side of the lab. Jim stayed behind, eyes studying the inky blackness. John led the way up the stairs, turning back to see Sherlock rushing after him.

"Go!" John ushered the two on. They rushed out the door and into the harsh light of a street lamp. Lestrade waited outside, eyes wide. He settled them in and watched the doorway. Sherlock was suppose to be running out with Alex, and John was suppose to be behind. But that plan had fallen apart as John had raced to meet Sherlock in the middle in order to fight off Jim together.

The lights blazed back to life as the three squared off. Jim was smiling maniacally. "Oh, a bit late for Alex aren't you? She's being taken to another location as we speak. She really is quite fun." Sherlock raced forward, anger written clearly on his features. "No, it doesn't work that way Sherly." Jim laughed as a blonde haired guy appeared behind him. He was buff, an obvious sniper.

"Moran," the detective snarled, stepping back to John and glaring.

"You have your army boyfriend, and I have mine. Only, Sebbie is infinitely better than your little blogger. Farewell Holmes, we'll see each other again I'm sure." Moriarty waved as him and Moran stepped through the same doorway Alex had disappeared down moments ago.

"Dammit all to Hell!" Sherlock cursed, hurtling a chemical across the room. He'd gone with the intent of rescuing the poor girl from the man's clutches, and had only achieved in getting her family. He continued to destroy the glass around the abandoned lab as Greg Lestrade came down the stairs. John turned to frown at him and ushered him closer.

"Moriarty got away with Alex." He murmured, watching Sherlock destroy everything. Greg nodded in understanding and sighed. He ran a hand through his silver/gray hair. Sherlock suddenly whirled around and marched towards the door that held the hallway Jim had gone down.

"We've got to get this open." He demanded, turning to Greg.

"I guess I could get someone to open it…" The DI muttered, patting his pockets for his phone. There was another man down in seconds, studying the door. It wasn't the same as the others, actually steel with a keypad password that even Sherlock was at loss to figure out. The door was opened twenty minutes later, and the four of them shuddered as they wandered in.

Alex cursed as she woke up this time, biting her tongue as a wave of nausea hit her. They were bumping along a dirt road, and the teen found she was blindfolded this time. There was no way she could tell how long they'd been on the road, but she'd sure as Hell try to memorize her way from there. After five minutes she had given up, the headache pounding between her eyes too distracting.

"Funny how dedicated they were young Alex." Jim spoke suddenly. The teen tried to glare, but gave up and resorted to closing her eyes again. "They came to rescue you. Shame they failed. Hope that cut John suffered heals quickly. Not to mention Sherlock's arm…" the consulting criminal trailed off, a smile in his voice. Alex growled in response.

_They surely couldn't have hurt those two. They're practically invincible! _She chanted, picturing the two in her mind. She'd known John was a doctor, so whatever damage they sustain from their job he's able to fix up without a problem. Alex also knew that in order for someone to get close enough to break Sherlock's arm, he'd have to be seriously beaten down.

Jim settled back in his seat and frowned at the girl. She was stubborn, and tolerant. He suppose that being raised by the man she called dad, then losing him when she was so young would harden the children to the real world. But never before had he meet such a child as brilliant, and caring as this girl was. "Caring is a disadvantage." He murmured distractedly.

"Wrong." Alex breathed, face turning towards him. "Caring is the only thing that keeps a man holding on when all hope is lost. Everybody cares about something. For some, it's other people, others it's their work." The teen took a deep breath. "Sometimes it's a real thing, sometimes it's not. Nobody can be so unemotional they don't care about _something._"

"And what would you say I care about?" Jim asked her quietly, unaware of the question before it popped out.

"You care about your work. You enjoy your work. Everybody is disposable to you. Everything is a game. But that tiny inkling of caring. You would care if you were to bore, so therefore care greatly about the services you perform. You also care about your appearance." The girl responded quietly. Jim stared at her curiously as they continued, absorbing the information.

"You don't have to admit it, but I know it's true." Alex muttered before dropping off into sleep again.


	11. Chapter 11

There was nothing Sherlock dreaded more than getting to the end of the hallway he was walking down with John and Greg. A few minutes into the hallway found Sherlock reaching for the comfort of John's hand. The army doctor smiled faintly at the detective and squeezed his hand. A sense of dread and fear draped itself around the three men as they opened the door on the far end.

"Bloody Hell," John groaned as he stared at the bare room. It was obviously a garage of sorts, as the garage door had been opened to let the cool night air blow through. There were oil stains on the concrete, but nothing else had been left behind. The army doctor wasn't sure how Sherlock was going to be able to find the poor girl now. Even Greg looked around in disbelief.

Sherlock immediately set about to studying the oil stains and dust around the room. Both John and Greg watched with curious expressions before the latter turn to the blogger. "You and him eh?" Detective Inspector asked, chuckling. John shot him a look but smiled.

"Sorta. We haven't talked it out much. Too much going on." John smiled over at the detective who was currently studying a deep scratch with his pocket detectives' glass. Greg nodded as if he understood.

"Ah!" Sherlock sat back with a smile. "He's going to St. Barts." John and Greg stared at him, astounded.

"How?" Greg demanded, immediately texting Donovan and Anderson.

"Easy, he scratched I.O.U. in the concrete, then imitated someone falling." The detective shrugged and started to head out the door.

John stopped him and let Greg slip past, giving them a knowing look before joining his crew and heading to the hospital.

"That. Was. Brilliant. How do you do that?" John asked him, his hand still on Sherlock's chest.

"Was it?" A smile danced on the detective's lip as he answered the doctor. "It's simple observance, my dear doctor." He leaned down to gently kiss John before sweeping out of the room. John chuckled and followed after, shaking his head at his impossible detective.

The van stopped, lurching forward and sending the teen into a sprawl on the floor. She groaned as hands pulled her roughly to her feet and led her outside. The world was black, but noisy. She figured they were back in London proper. Where, she had no idea. As they walked into the building, Alex thought she could smell a familiar scent from an experiment Sherlock had completed the other day. It got stronger, and the teens nose crinkled in slight disgust as she grinned.

She opened her mouth to scream, or at least yelp as she knew they were passing the double doors to the lab, but quickly stopped as pressure increased in the hand on her shoulder. "I wouldn't if I were you." Jim whispered into her ear, tearing the blindfold off as they moved towards the stairs. Alex swallowed back a retort and nodded as they began to climb up.

"Rooftop?" She inquired, looking up the flights of stairs. Jim smiled cruelly and nodded. "Okay then…" she trailed off, ascending the steps at a measured, even pace. She had a faint impression of where this was going, dating back to something John had told her about Sherlock. His fall to save his friends. _John never said where though, _a part of her mind whispered. _Logical assumption, he's trying to hurt Sherlock by hurting me. Since his plans to kill Sherlock's only friends failed, _the other part whispered back.

The wind chilled her to the bone. She wanted to wrap her middle with her arms to try and hold in some heat, but knew she couldn't until the bonds were released. She looked around curiously, her eyes skimming the skyline before turning up to study the stars. All her life she'd been fascinated by the little balls of light, and she looked at them now with a kind of reverence.

"A bit too easy." Jim mused, nodding to Seb to release Alex's arms.

"I'm sorry, what?" The teen rubbed her wrist absently as the blood began to flow back into them.

"A bit too easy getting you up here. You're very compliant. More so than most people would be. But then again, you knew what was at stake hm?" Alex glared at him. "Of course you did. I'm going to make him suffer, and, well, he cares about you. I can see why, you're so delightfully interesting."

"So…what? I jump to my death just like Sherlock did three years ago?" Alex asked irritably.

"Ah, you're getting it." Jim nodded and faced the girl. "I remember you as a child." He added after a while. Alex frowned and stared at him, slightly confused. "Your innocence to the world astounded me. Your father's desperate need to protect you confused me. Ah, but I changed that quickly didn't I?" He smiled fondly, eyes focusing on some forgotten memory. "I drove your dad insane with my demands. Never counted on him babbling to his seven-year-old. You see, that's why he had to die young Alex. He mentioned far too much."

"I was young! Do you really expect me to remember everything?" The teen almost yelled, throwing her hands in the air. She'd blocked out most of that time period, choosing not to relive those moments she'd almost lost her dad, or those nights he just babbled on, telling stories that would scare any sensible child.

"Regardless, I couldn't take the chance of him telling you something more drastic, even though he did in his dying moments." Jim walked towards the edge, carefully peaking to the ground below. Alex watched, thoughts of her father dying flooding her mind. She'd been so helpless to help, and she couldn't remember what he was telling her before he closed his eyes for good. She was only ten, and terrified out of her mind at that.

The girl walked slowly forward after a period of five minutes and looked over the edge at the people passing by underneath. It made her dizzy and sick, but she continued looking down as a taxi pulled up and a tall figure darted into the building. She'd never been one to be afraid of heights.

"Does this scare you?" Jim asked, amusement evident in his voice.

"No. When I lived back in the states', my friends and I used to jump off buildings into pools and trampolines. I love heights." Alex replied, watching the smug look disappear. She chuckled to herself and got up on the edge, still looking down. She could see John clear on the other side, looking up with slight fear. She waved slightly, before turning back around to face Jim. "So, how are you gunna make me do anything?"

"It's simple. You jump, or they die." Jim smiled at her.

"Oh, scary. Same tactic you used against Sherlock. Pick something original eh?" She shot back, rolling her eyes. She sat down resolutely on the edge of the building and grinned. Jim's jaw tightened and he glared at the teen, snapping his fingers at Seb.

"Aim at Doctor Watson if you don't mind." The sniper complied, pulling a rifle bag off his back that Alex hadn't noticed before. She swallowed and looked back at John, who was still staring at her with a mixture of fear and concern in his eyes.

"Okay, okay." Alex raised her hands and stood up, feeling the wind whip around her. Her hair covered her eyes and she angrily swiped at it as the door to the roof was opened again and Sherlock stepped on the roof. She looked back curiously and watched Jim smile.

"Just in time. Alex here is going to jump right?" Alex swallowed again and nodded, looking back to the sidewalk four stories down. People milled around, oblivious to what was happening on the rooftop. Or so she thought as several police cars showed up and moved pedestrians out of the way. She realized she was the only one they could see, the only one in view on the high rooftop.

"Why would you do this Moriarty?" Sherlock asked him, voice and face expressionless. Alex turned back and studied him closer. His body language was tense, and there was worry deep in his blue eyes.

"Why do I do anything?" Jim sang, smiling like the maniac.

"It's the same reason he killed my father Sherlock. Same reason Ray was sent to meet my mum. Because I know of his international ring, I know he's willing to kill a man, torture him, in front of his ten-year-old to get what he wants. And, according to him, I know of something potentially dangerous, that I can't even remember. So, instead of risking it, he's going to make the sixteen-year-old jump, thereby killing the information and hopefully hurting you as well." Alex answered dryly, rolling her shoulders a bit. She winced as her bad one gave a small burst of pain.

"Very good." Moriarty clapped slowly, giving her a predatory smile. "Shame. You would be a great asset to my team. Observant skills to match even Sherlock Holmes." The man chuckled and flicked his wrist. "Might as well jump already, I don't think my guys will wait much longer. Nicky and Sarah aren't completely safe yet." Her eyes widened a fraction, and she found herself cursing Jim as she subconsciously took a step closer to the edge.

She wobbled uncertainly, her eyes darting to meet Sherlock's. She smiled weakly and almost groaned as the rooftop door opened again and Lestrade started to run towards Moran and Jim. The other two had no reservations of jumping off the side, oddly enough, though it didn't surprise Alex when she saw the fact that they had landed on a zip line. Though how they'd managed to put it up without anyone noticing was beyond her.

She wobbled again, desperately trying to regain her footing. She felt her body being pulled backwards and suddenly she was being cushioned by air and the wind was ripping her hair and clothes around her. She was only slightly aware of a cold hand gripping her ankle as the blood rushed to her head as stars danced in her vision. "Hang on, I've got you." A voice came through the hazy fog that her hearing had become.

Her body was pulled upwards, even as it protested and tried to pull down, and Alex found herself staring blankly into worried blue eyes before the world became dark around her once more.

She woke with her whole body aching and an ear-splitting migraine pounding at her skull. Thankfully she found herself lying in a bed she was pretty sure was at the flat. The room smelled of John, so she assumed she was upstairs, where the army doctor normally slept. She tried to sit up and groaned as another dizzy spell hit her. She tenderly probed the back of her head and found stitches buried into the soft skin there.

"Oh, you're awake then. Please tell me this isn't going to become normal if you come to live with us?" John joked as he carried in a cuppa. Alex indicated the tea with a waved hand and gripped her throat. It was terribly sore, probably from screaming. John smiled kindly and helped her sit up slowly. She closed her eyes as stars danced once again and gripped the mug in a death grip. She took a cautious sip, then downed the contents eagerly.

"How…" Alex struggled, swallowing thickly before trying again. "How long?"

"Only a few hours. Hit your head pretty hard when Sherlock caught you." Alex nodded and sighed.

"Migraine, could tell." She rubbed at her face and smiled. Sherlock bounded into the room and smiled at the girl warmly. "Thanks, for catching me." Alex told him, crossing her legs and rubbing at her head.

"Oh, it was nothing really," Sherlock dismissed it with a wave and sat next to John, carefully. Alex noticed with a smile they were holding hands. "This arrived for you while you were out. Sorry, I took the liberty of checking it." He handed her a white envelope, torn open. Her eyes roved across the funeral announcement for Dean and skipped straight to her aunt's wedding invitation.

"Cool, I get to be a bride's maid."


	12. Chapter 12

Alex stretched out, spreading each finger and toe apart and hearing her bones crackle and pop. She sighed with relief and settled back down before sitting up to twist so her back would pop as well. It was her favorite thing to do immediately after getting up, like a morning ritual. She was still tucked away in John's bed, having spent her whole day resting, barely eating. Sherlock had gone downstairs hours ago to work on an experiment, though John had stayed behind and talked before going downstairs to make tea.

She cautiously stepped out, testing her weight on the ankle Sherlock had grabbed in order to keep her from actually falling. Though he hadn't meant to, Sherlock had ended up spraining the ankle, though Alex still wasn't sure how that came about.

She limped down the stairs, trying her best to be quiet. She could hear the two men talking, and the closer she got, the clearer the words came.

"…don't you think it's time?" John's voice first, lazy and relaxed.

"Time for what?" Sherlock asked. Alex could almost hear him stifle a yawn.

"Time to talk about…us." Alex giggled behind her hand. She knew John had to be blushing by now. There was a creak on the couch as someone shifted.

"What do you mean?" Confusion.

"What we are now…" John trailed off, obviously embarrassed. It went quiet for a moment in the living room, and Alex thought about walking in before she heard a small gasp.

"Call it what you will, but you are mine. And I am yours. I think the term is boyfriend correct?" Sherlock's voice was deeper than normal.

"Boyfriend?" A smile in John's voice now, as if he liked the idea. "We're not going to try and hide it are we?"

"Of course not." There was more silence in which Alex snickered. It wasn't hard to figure out what they were doing.

"Um…" John cleared his throat. "I should…um…go check on Alex."

"Oh, she's fine I'm sure." Sherlock muttered. More silence. Alex limped the rest of the way down and smirked when she caught them on the couch.

"I feel so loved." She laughed and made her way into the kitchen as John blushed a bright scarlet. Sherlock laughed behind her, long limps splayed across the couch. The army doctor was nestled in next to him, his head now resting on the detective's chest. _They looked so relaxed and adorable together, _Alex mused to herself, smiling. "Hey, where are the painkillers?" She inquired, leaning against the doorframe on her good ankle.

"Cabinet to the left of the fridge." Sherlock informed her, his hand making small circles on John's back. She hunted out the pills and made a face when she realized they were low dosage ibuprofen pills. She took three out and washed them down with one of the sodas left in the fridge. As a second thought, she hunted out some ice and placed it in a baggie as a makeshift icepack before joining the boys in the living room.

"I'm assuming you've sprained your ankle before?" John asked her as she dragged the chair at the table to sit in front of John's armchair.

"Hm? Oh, yea. I ran track with I was thirteen, and twisted my ankle while running. It swelled half this size and I had to sit out for two weeks." She gingerly placed the pack on her ankle and sat back, enjoying the numbness. Her fingers tapped out songs as she stared at the two men lying lazily on the couch.

"If you're up for it…" Sherlock started, opening his eyes to look at Alex. "Your brother's funeral is today. They've requested you speak. I told them only if you're feeling well." Alex nodded solemnly. She knew she should go. It was her dear brother. But the thought of Ray or even her mum attending terrified her. "We'll keep you safe." Sherlock stated simply, as if he read her thoughts.

"I should go…" She trailed off, getting up to head upstairs. John watched her with sad eyes and made to get up. Sherlock tightened his grip on him briefly, sharing a look before getting up himself and going to the bathroom. John swallowed and shook his head. He moved to the bedroom to get changed into his funeral wear, his mind on the poor child upstairs.

The people gathered around the four-year-olds tombstone were of various ages. Alex spotted the one DI that helped investigate the murder. He was standing near that Donovan girl who kept sending glares at the three of them standing near the front. John and Sherlock were holding hands, and Alex stood in front of them like a child would in front of their parents. Sarah and Nicky were further back, talking quietly to the funeral director. There were several people Alex did not recognize. Parents of Dean's playmates, though the children themselves were not present. She even spotted Ray and her mum, which sent her shrinking back into Sherlock's form.

"We gather here today to celebrate a life taken from us early." And the start of the funeral is announced. Alex focuses her attention on the man to her right and relaxes against the hand that squeezes her shoulder gently. "It is requested by the aunt who made the arrangements that the young boys sister gets to talk. I hand the stage to her now." Alex gulped and moved front and center, eyes flitting from one person to the next. John smiled encourangingly at her, and she tried for a sad, tired smile back.

"When my young brother, Dean, was born, I was only twelve. But at that age, I had been taking care of myself for ages. My mum neglected me after my father died, and I was terrified my brothers would go through the same thing. I treated them like my own, and they always knew their sister loved them, even when I didn't say it." At this, young Nicky hoped from his seat next to Sarah and raced to jump into his sister's arms. Several arms shot out to catch him and he dodged them all with ease. Alex gratefully gripped the boy and hugged him close.

"I knew one day I'd have to leave them, to start my own life. I'd hoped that I would've taught them enough they could've gotten by on their own. I never meant to leave so early. When Mum met Ray, everything was great for the boys'. But…for me, things only got worse. Ray hated me from day one. So I ran. Logical, considering I was beat everyday. Various scars, burn marks. So I left when I did to save myself. I wish I hadn't left, and maybe Dean would still be with us today, though there's a chance I would not. Nicky didn't deserve to watch his brother die, and Dean didn't deserve to go. I will miss him forever and always. And, wherever you are, I love you Dean. Goodbye baby bro."

Alex stepped back to Sherlock and John and wiped a tear from Nicky's eye. "Don't cry, it's fine. I'm not leaving you buddy." Nicky buried his face in his sister's neck. Alex tuned out the rest of service as she stood by the two men that managed to do a better job being parents in a couple weeks, then her mum did in sixteen years.

"Alex!" The teen pounded down the stairs. Since they had become a couple, John's old room had been turned into Alex's room.

"Hm?" She asked John as soon as she reached the living room. She was dressed in jeans and a black tee, somehow managing a dangerous look without trying.

"Guess you're ready then." Sherlock commented dryly, tying a scarf around his neck. The girl bobbed her head in conformation. Immediately following the funeral, Ray had been arrested. The police slowly built evidence to support Alex's claim and the trail was to be held today. Alex swallowed when she was requested to be a witness. It'd been two weeks since the funeral.

The three were out the door and hailing a cab within the five minutes. Alex fidgeted between them in the backseat, pulling at the necklace Sarah had given her. It was made of agate stone, to bring good luck. _I need all the luck I can get, _Alex thought as they pulled up.

Legal proceedings gave Alex a sense of boredom as she waited in her seat impatiently. Sherlock had his eyes half closed and John was watching the man sitting in front of them with steely eyes. The teen just stared at the judge, with the occasional look at the prosecutor. "You are being tried in court for child abuse and neglect. Prosecutions will proceed first." The judge nodded her head in the lawyer's direction.

"We will start by calling our first witness, the defendants step-daughter, Alex Wilhem." Alex swallowed back her fear and shot a look at John before approaching the stand. "How old were you when your mum married Ray?" The lawyer smiled kindly at her before beginning the questions.

"Fifteen sir."

"When did the abuse start?"

"About two months after moving in with him here in London." Alex stated numbly, her hand rubbing against the last cut she had made.

"Why didn't you report it?"

"Who listens to fifteen year old girl's that have a history of 'lying' according to their parents? I didn't report it because I knew that Ray would get out of it. He could easily claim the cuts and scrapes were my own doing due to my past." She said this part quietly, and looked up to meet John's shocked eyes. He obviously understood. Her eyes roamed over the jury, who looked shocked and sympathetic. _Good. _

"Why did you run when you did?" Alex snapped her attention back to the lawyer.

"He kicked me out, I was bleeding badly, and needed to get away before he killed him."

"Where did you go?"

"My aunt's first. She patched me up and introduced me to the people I live with now."

"Who is that?"

"Why does that matter?" Alex sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Sherlock Holmes and John Watson." Both men smiled at her from their seats, and Alex smiled back, faintly.

"And you're currently well?"

"Well, aside from a sprained ankle, stitches in my head, yea. None of that was their fault either. In fact, those two acted more like parents then my mum did in all sixteen years of having me. They keep me entertained, and I feel safe around them. I no longer have sleeping problems. If I'm being honest, I'm the most well I've ever been." Alex answered, looking both of them dead in the face. "No doubt they'd make amazing parents."

The prosecution nodded. "Thank you Ms. Wilhem. We'll have our second witness, Sherlock Holmes." Alex showed mild surprise as she passed the detective to reclaim her seat. The tall man strode confidently to the stand and stood with his back straight. "How long have you know the victim?"

"About a month." Sherlock answers, rolling his shoulders. "I met her when she ran away from her home. She was fascinated by my experiments." He smiled faintly.

"Why did you accept her in your home?"

"Why not? She was obviously in trouble. She came slightly limping due to a gash on her calf, her head bandaged, and a deep fear in her eyes. Contrary to what everybody believes, I do have a heart. And I found her to be quite fascinating." The lawyer smiled.

"That's all I need, thank you Mr. Holmes. We'll call our final witness, Doctor John Watson." They shared a brief look before Sherlock sat down besides Alex again and John took the stand. "You're of the medical profession, correct?" John nodded. "Retired army doctor? So you know a thing or two about wounds?"

"Correct." John rumbled out, curious.

"Did you take a look at the victim's wounds?"

"Yes, of course."

"Did they appear to be self-inflicted?"

"Oh, God no. There was no way she could've done that to herself. A couple of the scratches, maybe, but no way could she have inflicted a wound that deep on her calf, unless she had a way high pain tolerance and a knack for bending her arm at a strange angle." Alex swallowed and studied the scar on her leg.

"Thank you Dr. Watson." John nodded and moved to his seat. The rest of the trial was a blur to Alex as she tried to keep her anxiety in check. She caught snippets from the defendant's witnesses, but otherwise kept her eyes and ears trained on the jury. Most looked bored and ready to go home. They all had a weariness about them that suggested they didn't believe Ray's story at all. A couple of times she raced to the bathroom, eager to be out of the courtroom as her anxiety started to rise. She looked in the mirror at the face of a stranger. She looked healthier than she ever had. There was a foreign hope in her eyes, as well as grief. The blue/gray eyes looked back at her and dared her to find the resemblance of depression within their depths.

She stayed in her seat as the jury intervened, her eyes glued to a corner. Sherlock was talking adamantly in her ear about a case of some sort that she just couldn't hear through all the white noise. She thought she heard John chime in once or twice, but her attention never strayed from the corner. All her thoughts focused on what the jury was going to send out. She was praying, hoping and praying, that Ray be put behind bars, that she would get some justice in this way.

The jury came back in just an hour time and the verdict was handed to the judge. Alex's attention fixated on the man in the wig as his eyes roved over the paper. "Ray Brines, you are found…"


	13. Chapter 13

"Ray Brines you are found guilty in the highest degree for children abuse and neglect." Alex let out a breath and smiled shakily. She would no longer have to worry about going back to the dreadful house, no longer worry about what that man would do to her. She felt a reassuring pressure on her shoulder and smiled. She didn't have to look to know it was the doctor's. "You will hereby stand by for a sentencing trial." The gavel came down and Ray twisted around angrily.

"I WILL GET YOU! YOU STUPID BITCH. YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE HAPPY." He fought against the police and shouted back, his face red and puckered in anger. Alex had her mouth set in a grim line as she watched him, and when he finally met her eyes, she shook her head in finality and got up to leave. He bellowed and cursed, even through the door that led to holding cells. But Alex paid no mind as she left the courtroom with Sherlock and John trailing behind.

She threw herself down on one of the armchairs as soon as they reached the flat and stared at the ceiling. Her hands shook slightly, but her gaze was unwavering. She didn't know what to feel about any of the events that just happened. That was just as well in her mind. She felt a sense of detachment, like there was no such thing as emotions for her in that very moment. Somewhere from upstairs the faint noise of her cell phone ringing reached the teen's ears and she mentally groaned and rolled to her feet to run up the stairs. Sherlock and John frowned as they hung up their coats and watched the girl disappear to her room.

"Do you think she's okay?" John asked Sherlock after a moment of silence, his eyebrows knit down. The detective frowned up the stairs. He wasn't sure himself. They both thought she'd be leaping up and down with joy at the thought of Ray being behind bars, but she had yet to show any sign of emotion.

"I'm not sure how good of an idea that is Ky." Alex muttered into her phone, giving Sherlock and John a grim smile. "No, I'm not saying that. I'm just saying you shouldn't be teaching six-year-olds to be jumping off buildings, even if they're only a story up. Remember what happened when we did that? And we were thirteen for God sakes!" She waited a moment, lips pursed. "Well…yes, we were about four stories up, but that's not the point! You broke your wrist and I ended up busting my head open. Actually…I almost died, if you recall." She shook her head as a smile danced across her lips. "Ky, I strongly advise you not to teach those children that. Their parents might get a bit cross with you if they go home and jump from their roofs." She reached the bottom of the stairs and shook her head again. "Gotta go Kylie. Yes…I'll call you later, promise. Bye!" She hung up and shook her head.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her questioningly. "My friend Kylie, back in America. She wants to teach six-year-olds to jump from the roof of her one story house onto the trampoline. We used to do it, and one time we did it at her grandmothers, which was four story, and I ended up flying off the trampoline and hitting my head against the brick that surrounded her playhouse. Mum was very cross with me when that happened." Alex rolled her eyes at the memory and yawned.

"Tired already?" John asked her, amused. She shrugged her shoulders and curled up on one of the armchairs while the other two sat on the couch. She turned on the TV and brightened when she found a show she wanted to watch.

"Doctor Who! Yay!" She giggled and settled down to watch the eleventh doctor face down the Daleks.

"I didn't know anybody else watched this." John laughed from the couch, his fingers running through Sherlock's curls as he too watched Matt Smith turn around and watched a Dalek approach cautiously.

"What is this show?" Sherlock asked, almost sounding interested. He was relaxed, body spread about with his head in John's lap.

"Only the greatest sci-fi show in the world! It's about a guy, a time lord as he's called, who travels through space and time saving the different worlds and time periods. He's got two hearts and is absolutely insane and brilliant!" Alex muttered with admiration. She'd fallen in love with the show when the eleventh doctor first started. "I heard Matt was leaving." She added at the end, to the army doctor who obviously knew what the show was.

"After the Christmas special." John confirmed, slightly saddened. Alex frowned a little and continued to watch, her eyes alight.

She woke a couple hours later to the darkened flat. The telly was off, but she could hear silent murmurs coming from the boys' bedroom. She laid still, her breathing still quiet and steady and tried to make out what they were saying. After a few minutes, she gave up the strain and got up, stretching her sore back and yawning. She wanted the comfort of a bed, instead of being crunched into a ball on the couch.

The door to the other bedroom opened and Sherlock stuck his head into the living room. His curls were even more messed up then usual, and Alex giggled lightly. "Oh, you're up." He commented moving into the room. John followed behind, looking extremely worn out.

"Um…yea, sorry, did I wake y'all?" She asked, biting her lip. She knew they were awake beforehand, but she wasn't going to mention that she'd tried listening.

"Oh no, we were talking about the wedding…and possibly keeping your little brother here while Sarah goes on her honeymoon." John answered, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes.

"Oh! That's right…the wedding is tomorrow." She snapped her fingers. "I forgot about it."

"That's understandable." John nodded at her, smiling kindly.

"Keeping my brother eh? What an adventure for you two. He's really not that bad. Listens to you and stays out of trouble. It was Dean that would always cause a ruckus or decide that it wasn't worth obeying you." She mused out loud, scratching her chin thoughtfully. "So I guess Aunt Sarah has custody of him?"

Sherlock nodded. "Only temporarily I think."

"Well, he does have a dad back in America. Mum kinda stole him and Dean from him. I'm still not sure how she bypassed him and got them adopted by Ray." She pointed out. "Their father, I remember him quite well. His husband and him were looking for some kids, and Mum wanted more money, so she agreed to be a surrogate. Only…when Nicky and Dean were born, she refused to let him have them and even tried to make him pay child support. It was a bad ordeal." Alex shrugged her shoulders. "They should look for him though. I'm sure he'd be glad to have Nicky, even if he can't have Dean."

They both stared at her, slightly shocked. She looked back curiously. "Do you remember his name?" She shook her head and smiled sadly. "Well…that's interesting. I'll tell Greg tomorrow. Get some rest Alex, it's going to be along day." Sherlock smiled at her and gave her a hug. Alex smiled back and waved as she disappeared up the stairs again. John wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist and smiled up at him.

"You really are wonderful, you know that?" The detective chuckled and hugged him back before they both retired to their room to sleep the rest of the night away.

Alex woke up to the sunshine and tried to burrow back under the covers, grumbling about getting up. She checked her phone sleepily and yelped when she realized what time it was. _I was supposed to be up an hour ago! _She hurriedly rushed out of bed, grabbing her bride's maid dress on her way to the shower. Within ten minutes she was good and ready to go, breathing a sigh of relief that she was able to get done so fast.

Sherlock and John were downstairs, looking dashing in their tuxedos. She stepped down the rest of the way and gave a small smile. "Ready when y'all are." They both shot her reassuring smiles as she muttered something about hating dresses and piled into a cab. The ride was short, but the place where the ceremony was to be held was huge. Alex knew her aunt was well liked, she just never imagined she'd have a wedding with over a hundred people there. She felt a sudden rise in her anxiety and stood still at the entrance, pushing down the fear. She felt a kind hand on her shoulder and smiled faintly before disappearing to find her aunt.

The ceremony lasted all of twenty minutes. The vows between the couple brought tears of joy to many eyes, and when they kissed, Alex merrily turned to the boys and made a face, which made them laugh. She stood by her aunt's side and took pictures, laughing and smiling and making funny faces. She rather liked this Tanner guy Sarah had married, and found herself already addressing him as Uncle Tan.

The reception was noisy and crowded, and Alex wanted badly to head home. The only thing that kept her there was the pleading look Sarah had sent her when she'd mentioned it. So, there Alex was, sitting at a table, alone and watching everybody dance joyfully. Even John had managed to pull Sherlock onto the dance floor. The teen smiled at them as they danced around. They were both smiling and laughing.

"Come on beautiful," Sarah tugged on her hand, pulling the girl up and onto the dance floor. She giggled and let her aunt sweep her into a two-step, expertly following and then leading. "Where'd you learn two-stepping?" Sarah asked her after a bit, laughing.

"My friend taught me when we went to one of the dances together. He had the biggest crush on me." Alex laughed as well, finally stepping back and getting a drink.

"What happened there?" Her aunt followed her, slightly winded.

"He died in a train wreck on his way to visit me from his boarding school." Alex muttered, looking away. Sarah's mouth dropped open.

"You've seen far too much death for one so young." Sherlock suddenly put in, materializing next to the teen. She jumped slightly and bit her lip, holding back a yelp.

"Um, I suppose so." Alex answered, her eyes on a crack in the ceiling. She had too many people around her die for the idea of death to scare her. Everything dies in the end, so why fear it? "Sarah, where's the loo?" She asked suddenly, turning to face her aunt. Sherlock gave her a piercing gaze. "Don't worry, I'm not gunna do anything stupid." She smiled at him and turned back to her aunt.

"Done the hall to the right." Sarah answered as Tanner pulled her away again. He winked and danced off with her, and Alex smiled softly at the love that was shared between the two. She walked off feeling just a bit of the loneliness that always crept on her in the presence of love and entered the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the shining gray eyes that hid beneath the smothering blue make-up. She thought about wiping it all off, revealing the actual face beneath it, but she knew her aunt would worry if she did that.

The hallway outside the room was quiet. Where she'd seen a teenager entering the other loo was now deathly silent. Nobody else was in the hall, and Alex felt a sense of dread settle over her shoulders and weigh in her stomach like a brick. She glanced around, uneasy. Bass music pounded through the building, blocking any sound in the hallway from the big room in resided next to.

"Well well, aren't you a pretty thing?" A voice tsked behind her, breath smelling foul. She jumped away and faced the man, her hand automatically going for where her knife would be…if she wasn't wearing the stupid dress. She mentally cursed and glared at him. He'd slicked back peppered hair, and his green eyes shined greedily. He had a haughty laugh and a twisted face that Alex instantly wanted to punch.

"What do you want?" She spat, venom dripping from every word.

"Just a little chat with the girl my employer wants dead. You don't look like much of a threat." He feigned to the right and took a step closer, causing the teen to step back…straight into a wall. She cursed herself again at how stupid she was. He had her cornered now. He smiled, missing more than a few teeth and took another step forward. Something clicked into place in his hand and Alex glanced down with wide eyes at the switchblade the man had pulled out. The light from overhead glinted off the newly polished metal and blinded her temporarily as the man closed the distance.

"Such a pretty face…it's a shame he wants you dead. You'd make a great mate." The man smiled cruelly again, the blade coming up to brush a stray bang from her face. "Oh well." His hand dropped down, the point of the blade pressing into Alex's belly. She clenched her teeth and forced herself to stay calm, glaring at the man. Ever so slowly, with that same smirk on his face, the blade was stabbed into that point. Alex screamed as the burning sensation hit her and the knife was twisted to the side. It was the worst kind of pain she'd ever felt. A figure appeared at the door, tall and dark, and the man quickly removed the knife and watched with satisfaction as the blood started gushing. Alex clenched her teeth and tried to curl into a ball to stop the bleeding. Pretty soon she was dropping into a sleep she'd actually hoped she'd never wake up from.

Goodbye cruel world… 


	14. Chapter 14

There was a strange sense of nothing that surrounded Alex as she woke. She glanced to either side of her and frowned. Where was she? It was pitch black in her thoughts, and when she tried to move, it felt like she was trying to swim in jell-o. She frowned again, trying to remember what happened. Pain, burning, somebody yelling. _Oh…right. _She'd been stabbed. But where was she now? Certainly not what she was expecting of dying.

The flat came into focus around the murky darkness. It was silent, almost sad. Sherlock's violin sat dejectedly on the chair near his stand, there was newspaper tossed on the table, open to the latest article.

Alex Wilhem, recently part of the case against Ray Brines, and living with well-known detective Sherlock Holmes and blogger John Watson died today at the wedding of her aunt. No news yet on the man who stabbed the sixteen-year-old while the reception continued on right inside the doors.

Alex shook her head and studied her hand. It was fading in and out of transparency, until she willed herself fully transparent. She marvelled at the new found powers as a…ghost was it? Is that what she is technically? She wouldn't know, she'd only joked around about the subject with Kylie before. She heard footsteps climbing up the stairs and watched as her hand disappeared from even her own sight. John and Sherlock entered the flat, hanging up coats and staring at the rain streaked sky sadly.

She observed they were both dressed nicely, though John had tear tracks down his face. _Funeral, _some part of her mind whispered as she watched Sherlock stop in the middle of the flat to stare at her laptop on the floor. John was heading towards the kitchen to make them tea.

"Hey, John, did you ever notice the stickers on her laptop?" Sherlock asked, amused. Alex chuckled when she realized he was talking about the crime scene tape she'd plastered on there, as well as the evidence tape. She had always wanted to be in forensics, so she decorated her computer accordingly. John smiled at him and handed him a mug of steaming tea. Sherlock took it and sipped quietly, staring at nothing. Alex drifted closer, because that's all she could do. She didn't try to reach out to touch his shoulder, it would've been pointless anyway.

_And here I always thought the after-life was just blackness for the rest of whatever existence there was, _she mused, staring around. Nothing really had changed, except the sadness in both men before her. She wished there was a way to reassure them, but she couldn't seem to think. Her mind was slow to catch up with the realization that she was actually dead.

"Sherlock," John muttered, turning to the detective. The taller one, however, didn't look at his blogger, his thoughts elsewhere. "Sherlock, listen to me." The army doctor's voice took on a commanding tone that made Sherlock shiver. He turned his head questioningly. Alex gulped back tears of her own at the sadness in his expression and focused her mind on her aunt. When she opened her eyes again, she was standing before a despondent four-year-old and distraught Sarah.

"Nicky, sweetheart, your sister is watching over you." The boy refused to move, or acknowledge the food set before him. He was too depressed. All he wanted was his sister. Alex moved towards him and placed a soft kiss on his forehead before whispering in his ear.

"I'll always be here Nicky." The little boy sighed and started to eat. Alex wasn't sure if it was because he heard her, or if he just decided that starving himself wasn't a good idea, but she wasted no time in a smile before a bright light appeared in her vision. Instead of stepping towards it, like she had seen once in a stupid movie, a figure stepped out, holding a smaller bundle. "Dad?!" She gasped, running to him. The man smiled and hugged her gently. A pair of pure white wings protruded from his back and Alex almost snorted. Of course that would the turn-up in all this. Being an angel. Dean wiggled in his arms and leaned towards his sister. Alex gratefully hugged the small child to her chest and looked around in wonder as the scene changed to a park.

"Hey baby girl," her father muttered sadly, a small smile on his face. "Welcome to the other side." Alex glanced around, questions starting to sprout on her tongue.

"What am I doing here Dad?" She turned to him, Dean clinging to her and trying to hide his face in her hair.

"You died, just like you were suppose to."

"I was never to live a full life?" She frowned at this. It would explain why she always felt a sense of foreboding, but still. She had dreamed of having a nice, happy family. Now all she caused was pain for two men that actually cared.

"No, you weren't. I'm sorry. You were meant to change some people's perspectives. And you went through many challenges to meet your goal. I am so glad you didn't end it early. Alex, I am so proud of you, you have no idea. I was selfish for what I did. I regretted it everyday since." He hung his head and Alex felt her eyes welling up.

"Daddy, I don't blame you. After all, I never would've met Sherlock and John without it, I never would have been the person I was if you hadn't been the person you were." He looked and smiled.

"From here you have two options. I, obviously, chose the first options of guardian angel."

"How cliché," Alex chuckled, earning a smile in return.

"The other option is reincarnation. My 'superiors' as one might say have already picked who would you be again. Alex…you would get that happy life with Sherlock and John." Her ears perked at this. "The thing is, you wouldn't remember this life. Dean would be there too. They think it only fitting."

"Wait…so they have kids later?" Her father nodded, looking across the park to where a three-year-old girl was sitting in the grass. "I could be there daughter…" her eyes grew real big and a smile crept on her face.

"I think that would be the wise choice. Most children are reborn, having had such short life cycles." Her father nodded at her, smiling as well.

"But I wouldn't remember you? Or Dean?"

"No, but Nicky will still be around, and I would hope you would grow up happier. Did they ever find the note you left?"

Alex's eyes widened as she thought about the envelope with a letter she'd written a week before the trial. She'd always had a sense she would die young. Her counselor when she was young told her to write down what she would say to the people she cared about and seal it in a letter. Hide it away until something happens. It helped a lot.

"I don't think so…" Her father smiled back at her and winked.

"Good luck in your next life, see you soon baby!" Alex swallowed and waved as a cliché bright light surrounded the two of them and her memories where wiped.

"HAMMIE!" The eight-year-old yelled as her younger brother took off down the stairs of the room they were sharing. He'd just taken her precious DNA pillow that Papa had gotten her for Christmas. Hamish Joseph Holmes ran behind his dad's chair and whimpered as young Zara Alex Holmes came stomping down. She'd been in the process of drawing the pillow and labeling the parts for their father.

Their dad set down his newspaper and sighed. "Zara, what's wrong now?" John asked his daughter, more than a little annoyed at the perfect morning interuption.

"Hammie stole my pillow. I was drawing the model for Papa!" Zara pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. She looked slightly like John, with pretty, strawberry-blonde hair and sharp eyes that matched his color. But she was not his biologically. She had been adopted when she was three, having been left to die in a park late at night. The couple had been walking with one year old Hamish when they ran across the poor girl. John had begged Sherlock to adopt her, and, eventually, the consulting detective agreed.

"Zara!" Sherlock called from his place at his microscope. The girl had a brilliant mind that was always eager to help her papa with experiments.

"Yes Papa?" She danced over to him, DNA pillow forgotten about as her brother crept into John's lap. Her eyes shone with quick intelligence as her father turned to her.

"Have you found that test tube yet?" Her eyes widened briefly as she shook her head and darted back up the steps. She'd completely given up on finding the thing, but she knew Papa needed it. Her small arm searched desperately under her dresser, accidentally knocking into a piece of paper in the process. She tugged whatever it was gently out of it's hiding spot and stared at the envelope. It was yellow from time, and the writing on the front was unfamiliar to the child. Though the names were unmistakable.

"Papa! Daddy! What's this?" She called as she ran back down the stairs, holding up the old envelope. John looked up immediately, his eyes darting to his husband.

"Where did you find this?" Sherlock asked as he gently took it from his daughter.

"It was caught in a crack in the dresser…" she mumbled, watching her papa study it in the light.

"John." He gulped, tears gathering in his eyes. The army doctor gently moved their son off his lap and stood to join his husband. "See the signature?" He held the letter to the light so John could see the small name, _Alex, _at the bottom.

"It's from…but that was nine years ago." John swallowed back tears. Sherlock slipped an arm around his waist and sighed.

"Zara, Hamish, go color or something in your room. Your dad and I have to talk about this." The children nodded obediently, curiosity burning through them. "We'll tell them the story about Alex someday…" he muttered as he watched them disappear into their room. John looked at him and nodded.

"They deserve to know about her. Let's see what this letter is about…" John gingerly took the letter from his husband and opened it, careful of the aging paper. He hadn't seen this scratchy handwriting since the sixteen-year-old had occupied their flat. She hadn't really left either, or so it felt to the two men as they stared at the letter before them.

_Dear Sherlock and John, _

_I'm writing this because I have this sense of foreboding. It's stupid, I know, but it's something that's followed me around since I was eleven. I honest to God never really believed I'd live to graduate and go to college. I never saw myself with a family, like I so badly wanted. I'm surprised I lived as long as I did. I presume if you found this I am dead, as I had hidden it in my drawer to keep you from finding it until then…_

_I never really thought I'd be sad to leave this life. It wasn't the best, and I wish that circumstances had been different. But, thanks to you two, I felt like I had a small purpose in life. Sherlock, you gave me hope that everything would be all right in the end. You kept me going with the constant thought of experiments, and the idea of actually solving cases. And John, you gave me another reason to smile. You were always cheerful it seemed, and I hated to bring anything close to depression around you. I was depressed for years, on the verge of suicide, and you two managed to bring me back better than even my best friend could. _

_I can't thank y'all enough for taking me under your wing when I needed it. You could've easily turned me away, and I expected you to do just that. I would've made my way on the streets for a bit, I'm sure. But you two took me in without much thought, and that warmed me greatly. _

_I hate that I had to leave so early. I would've loved to spend more time trying to solve cases and laughing at how bored Sherlock got. I enjoyed the violin playing, even at three in the morning and the random silence. I hope that y'all don't forget me though. I'm in a better place, even if it's not in a life where I can laugh at the antics you guys perform. I don't really believe in Heaven, but I'm willing to bet that some where close to where I ended up. I've joined Dean, my father, my friend Matt, and I think I'll be partying some with them. _

_Goodbye Detective, Doctor. I'm glad for the short experience in your life, and grateful for the kindness and care you showed me. I'll always be around! _

_Ciao! Alex _

This brought about a round of crying and both men went to bed feeling more reassured that she really was all right. And somewhere, in the back of the tiny mind of Zara, the last part of Alex Wilhem sighed in relief and erased itself from the memory of the child. She remembered nothing of her past, and looked forward to the future ahead of her, as it looked bright from where she sat on the steps, listening to her fathers cry over something she didn't understand, and hopefully would one day soon.


End file.
